Not a minute after the young woman had left through the door, she came back in, talking to a man almost identical to the one standing at the bar, though some years older. "That one?" The man said in a booming voice, gesturing to Lysander. The woman nodded and hurried off to service the other customers. Greeting a few of the regulars, the owner of the bar finally made it to Lysander. "So, I hear you're looking for a room? We got three available." He stepped back and took a closer look at Lysander. "Depends what kind of coin you're willing to lay down." 

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"Oh that thing?" the barmaid glanced at the piece of paper. "Dunno, probably runs for as long as there's men willing to die in the service. I don't know too much about it, but if you're really curious they've got this recruitment office near the town hall?" She laughed at the final question, "I think they'd accept anyone, even children. The Crown doesn't care who dies in its service. I would advice against it though, it's just another way to get killed." With that, she was gone, returning only to place a small mug of watered down ale in front of Della.