Crom nodded along as the two patrons explained what they had witnessed. If a ship really had went up in flames, something told Crom it had been anything but an accident. He tended to keep to himself, but even the old mercenary knew of the turmoil that was sweeping the empire. If things got too out of hand their situation could get dangerous. It was probably for the best that they would be leaving Aldrun relatively soon. He continued listening as the well-dressed man at the bar asked his name. The boy he had just purchased a drink for seemed interested in his identity as well. When he had first been exiled from Esterl, he had been wary of giving out his name, for fear someone with ties to the island might have a grudge against the incompetent captain who'd allowed his lord to die. He learned that few people concerned themselves with foreign politics, however, especially when their own situation wasn't entirely stable. "Crom Vastil. And you, my friend?" The question was in reply to Griff, but seemed directed to both of the strangers.

As they spoke, Crom noticed another young man go bustling by them and out the door. The mercenary's eyes followed the newcomer for a moment before returning to his new companions. Johnathon had just asked if any of the two strangers were heading west. Crom wasn't opposed to the idea of company on the road, and neither of the newcomers seemed to have any particularly insidious qualities about them. Hurried footsteps and voices echoed in from the streets. The fire seemed to be causing quite the commotion. The mercenary could vaguely hear a rather intense-sounding conversation outside, but he couldn't tell just how close. He kept a watch on the door out of the corner of his eye. If things were going to escalate, he didn't want to be caught off guard.