Lothair sat at the far table, largely covered in a hooded traveler's cloak. It did help a bit while he walked around the city and helped to hide his distinct figure. However, in here, there wasn't much to look at so that briefest glimpse of his pale skin would catch anyone's eye. Thus, with his cloak doing little to help him here, he boldly took off the hood. If there was anything he learned while travelling, then it was to not act like he was hiding. Otherwise, it would draw more attention from the keen-eyed who could notice such behavior quite easily. He would simply don his role as a mercenary. How he did so was still up to him to decide, but trying to be sneaky wouldn't accomplish him much. He staggered over to the bar and casually said to the barkeep "A tankard of mead for me!" He would then look around at the nearest people sitting at the bar, and try to casually start a conversation. "How goes the war?"

He was a mercenary, not a noble, or so he behaved. Any physical proof his nobility was locked up in a safe at his room at Blade's Rest along with his horse. Whether others knew more had yet to be seen, but Lothair would continue to play his mercenary persona and express interest in heading north to find employment in this bitter war.