Arabella's worries all evaporated the instant her feet had crossed the threshold of the map room.
The shelves tracing and adhering to the cylindrical walls, almost reaching the ceiling, enclosed everything at the very center, and were stacked with thousands of long, rolled up papers.
The chronological order in which the maps had been arranged was more than clear as the age of a map was closely tied to the color of the special paper utilized; the darker the shade, the older was the map.
That was common knowledge to every cartographer or historian worth their golden stripes.
Arabella was neither but was well aware of the phenomenon.
Her eyes then fluttered towards the three, lone objects separating the shelves from each other; the three enormous silver globes that stood by the walls, at ninety degrees apart from each other, upon which detailed renders of the world they ambled were embossed in various styles.
