He was convinced to have heard a voice or rather a multiple voice. But he explained this by the fatigue caused by the intensity of his work on the code of chivalry. Returning to the scriptorium, he looked at his glass of vintage armagnac. It made him think of the effigies but he still did not know why. What if the high point had been real? He remembered the aging in oak barrels. The armagnac had to develop all its aromatic complexity, its color and its richness of flavors. Aging in the barrel favored the reduction of the degree of alcohol by evaporation. This was what the specialists called the angels’ part. It was only after he was kept in Carboys. . He had always imagined that the effigies were in this phase. Their petrified appearance had deceived him. So there was another explanation. The effigies were in an aging phase. Only this aging had lasted for centuries. So what type of armagnac was he preparing in the crypt? The complexification came from the temporal distance. The effigies were preparing for a mission that went beyond the human understanding or rather the limits of society. He knew that he should not think by analogy because this type of reasoning could have mistakes. He sat down again in his armchair and admired the glowing coals of the fireplace. No one had moved, he thought, at least in space. While everyone was moving in time. He wondered at what time he lived. He pulled himself together again and began to study his intuition about aging because, as a scholar worthy of the name, he dared not call it an idea. If his intuition was true, when could the period of maturation be? Did it depend on the effigies or the outside world? Did they keep contact even if it was only infinitesimal with the knight without armor? All these questions did not make much progress. The contents of the tombs should be analyzed. That was the only way to get in-depth analysis. The effigies were books that had not been opened for centuries. Everyone was content to look at the cover without reading the content. At that moment he thought about the codex. They were the image of the effigies. However, the codex had not undergone the aging process. At least that was what he was holding for the moment. The coals had become magnificent coals. Everything was transformed and always in the direction of entropy. Everything but the effigies. They were human resistance to oblivion, like the codex. He should have read them. It was the first time he had told himself that he had to go through petrified books. Decidedly the high point had opened his mind. He thought he was flourishing in his work and yet it was only now that he felt that he was working on the essentials.