Soon enough, the party's wagon arrived at the gates of Zephyr. Standing guard on the gatehouse roof, a water genasi man quickly spotted the approaching vehicle. And as it drew closer, the gatehouse lookout recognized two of the wagons occupants quickly enough. "Open the gate... Open the gate!" The lookout called. "Cascade is back! And she found Jørmund Hammer Fist!" The gates swung open a moment later and the party's wagon rolled into the town, a quiet yet audible crunching sound beginning to drift up from beneath the wagon as it did. Should any party members look over the sides of the wagon, they would see that the crunching sound stemmed from the wheels rolling over a thin sheet of frost that was already beginning to form on the town's dirt road. The smell of salt and brine hung in the air, mingled with the faint smoke of hearth fires struggling against the unnatural cold. Though the sun was high in the summer sky, the air bit at each party member's skin as if it were winter. The few people outside in this cold paused a moment to watch the party's arrival. Faces lined with hardship and fear softened ever so slightly when they too recognized Cascade and Jørmund. As the wagon rolled into the town square, they would catch sight of a gnome and a half-red dragon arguing with each other. Cascade would know the gnome as Harbormaster Gringam Oshwin Fnipperting Nackle Pearlywhite and the half-dragon as Sheriff Matches. "With all due respect, Harbormaster, the cold will be the least of our worries once the Northmen make landfall." The half-dragon said. "We need every able body in militia training if we want a chance of surviving this." "Morale has been at an all time low since news of the approaching raid fleet reached town." The gnome replied. "If we run out of firewood or can't rustle up enough warm clothing for the children at the very least, people may very well start pulling up stakes. We need people to go out and gather, Sheriff." Neither the Harbormaster nor the Sheriff have noticed the party yet. What do you do?