On a sunny Sunday morning in mid-September, Otto the shield grog seeks out Borealis just after breakfast.
"Master," the big man says, "I have heard a strange tale last night in town. I was chatting up Hannelore, the baker's cousin. She be a nice woman, not too picky about a roll around, if ye know what I mean..." He grins.
"Anyway, there she was, having an ale with me, and here she tells me about these people from a town out east of here. Kunostadt, I believe it is be called. 'bout a day's travel from here, if she tell it true. Well, there's been some strange weather there, if travellers are to be believed. Causing wuite a stir with the local villagers there. And I remembe'red that ye be wanting to know about any strange weather. So here I am."
"What kind of weather, ye be asking, master? Well, it seems it been snowing for near a week now. Bad for the crops, it be. That what Hannelore says. Work for her cousin in the day, Hannelore does, so she'd know. Seems it be bad if the grain be too wet at harvest time. Wouldn't know, myself, as I never wanted to be a peasant. But she seemed quite sure of herself, she be. And since aye wanted her in a good mood, I listened to her."
"Anyway, I thought ye'd want to know, as ye said weather was of interest to ye. So here am I, telling ye like I heard." He nods, clearly pleased with himself.