Snow, Jeffrey thinks as he picks himself up, has the advantage that it makes the landing a bit softer. The disadvantage is of course that it is cold and wet. He pats the snow off and shivers. A warm sweater and some gloves would be nice. Hot cocoa, curling up in front of a nice crisp fire after a snowball fight with your friends. Snowballs, another advantage to snow. Jeffrey bends to pick up some snow, rolls it into a ball and throws it at his friend. Phineas Bogg looks perplexed for a moment, as if he doesn't know what hit him. Then he looks into the laughing face of his young partner.

"I'll get you for that, kid." Bogg bends down to pick up some snow. He throws a snowball at Jeffrey, but misses target as the boy quickly ducks. A snowball fight enfolds.

"Truce?" Jeffrey offers from a distance, a snowball in each hand.

"Truce." Bogg accepts and drops the snow he just picked up.

Jeffrey drops his snowballs too and walks over to his friend, rubbing his arms and blowing warm air in his hands. A snowball fight when you're not dressed for the occasion isn't a very good idea.

"When and where are we?"

"Orléans, France." Bogg checks the omni. "1431, December 25th."

"Merry Christmas, Bogg."

"Merry Christmas to you too, Jeffrey."

"Red light?"

"Actually, no light at all. Maybe some snow got into it and it broke."

"I thought the omni was waterproof." Landing in water never seemed to do any damage to the omni.

"Hmm." Bogg taps on the omni with his fingers. He hits the side of it with the ball of his hand. "Ah, we have a light again. Red. And the date changed. It's December 16. Sorry, kid, no Christmas."

"That's okay. Holidays are toughest." Jeffrey turns his head away and shivers.

Bogg nods knowingly. "Any thoughts on what should have happened here on the 16th?" he asks to take the boy's mind of loosing his parents.

"No. But could we go somewhere warm while I think about it? I'm turning into an ice popsicle."

-oOo-

They find themselves a warm inn and some places by the open fire to warm up. Jeffrey holds his hands to the fire and exaggerates his shivering.

"Oh, this is so nice, so nice. I can feel my fingers again. Ahh."

"Cut the drama, kid. No one's watching." Bogg takes of his boots to warm his feet.

"What happened to the two of you?" a boxum woman, holding a pitcher, asks. "You look like you've been rolling in the snow."

"Almost," Bogg replies.

"Here, this'll warm you up." She pours two goblets from her pitcher and gives them to them.

"Wine?" Jeffrey looks into his goblet and takes in the aroma. "I don't think I should." He wants to call after the woman, but she has already moved on. "Should I?" he asks Bogg.

Bogg raises an eyebrow. "That depends. It'll make you warm on the inside, but it will also make you giddy in the head. What's more important to you?"

"One sip wouldn't hurt." Jeffrey decides. He stares some more in his goblet, before he takes a gulp. "Ugh! That tastes awful."

"Wouldn't say that too loud in France." Bogg quietly warns him.

"It does warm up my throat, though." Jeffrey swirls the liquid in the goblet. "I'll think about drinking the rest of it." He looks around the room and picks up on the conversation going on at a nearby table.

"So, today Henry VI King of England is crowned King of France. I can't drink to that," a man says.

"You could try to drink away your sorrows," another man replies.

"I'll drink to that. Santé." The first man takes a big gulp, emptying his goblet in one. He beckons the boxum woman to pour him another. "What bothers me, is not so much that our king is only ten years old, but that he is English."

"His mother is French. Daughter of Charles VI."

"That's debatable." He takes another gulp.

"Excuse me." Jeffrey interrupts. "But wouldn't Charles VII be king of this part of France."

"Charles VII?" The man squints at Jeffrey as if he can't get him into focus. "You mean the Dauphin? You tell him." He nods to his friend.

"The Dauphin isn't ready yet to be king."

"Ready? Ha." The first man hits the table with his fist. "At this rate he'll never be ready. Too much a doubter to fight against the English. His father, Charles VI, the Foolish, turns us over to the English. His son, Charlie VII sits down to have a good ponder on whether he can become king of France, because maybe number six wasn't his father. Well, if you ask me, he's as mad as his father, so there definitely is a family line." He pounds his goblet on the table to get the attention of the woman with the pitcher.

"Why didn't Joan of Arc liberate Orléans?" Jeffrey asks.

"Joan who?"

"Joan of Arc. The Maiden. The virgin of Orléans. In 1429 she lead the army that freed Orléans."

"A woman that leads an army?" The man brings his goblet to his mouth. "Well, she couldn't have done worse than Charles Dauphin."

"So, no Joan of Arc?"

"No Joan." The man shakes his head and takes a sip. "I've never met her, but I think I'll miss her."

Jeffrey turns back to the fire, his brow frowned, slightly biting his lip. Bogg knows this look: his young friend is brooding over something. He takes his boots to put them back on. They may be leaving soon.

"Joan of Arc. She didn't lift the siege of Orléans. That's why Henry VI is king of France, of a much bigger portion of France than he's is supposed to."

"So we got to help Joan lift the siege of Orléans?"

"I think we need to go back even further than that. These men have never even heard of Joan. They would have, if she'd been here to try to lift the siege. What do you know about Joan of Arc?"

Bogg racks his brain. "Young girl, heard voices, burned at the stake as a witch."

"Hmm, you don't know more than I do. I think I once saw a movie on TV about her, but that didn't say much about her beginnings, and I was more interested in the fights anyway."

"That's nice. And your parents didn't mind you watched it?" Bogg wishes he had bitten of his tongue earlier when his teeth were chattering with cold.

"I was living with my aunt then, and she didn't care," Jeffrey replies, seemingly unmoved. "I think we have to go back a few years, check whether Joan is really hearing the voices, and paying attention to them. I remember from the movie that she lived in a village in Lorraine."

"Okay. So we go there." Bogg takes the omni and sets the dials. "Ready?"

Jeffrey takes another sip of his wine, shivers with disgust and puts down the goblet. "Ready."