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If someone was to say to you that all of these were made more or less at the same time, you'd find that ... credible enough. More than credible actually. And following along with that vein of credibility, you would think that the oldest documents in the archive here would be a Master Family Patent - as they become <span class="mu-i">more</span> important with the passage of time, not less. A hundred year old bill of goods from the Old World isn't going to do anyone any good - but a family Master Family Patent? That would be worth keeping around. In fact, if you are right about being organized by time, then if you were to go far enough back, you might reach a point where the archive is almost entirely Master Family Patents. And that would have to be on one of the ends of the room then, right? Spurred as if you had been jabbed with a white-hot nail, you bolt towards one end of the stacks - moving as fast as you can with a nude flame. Finding yourself at the shelf before the wall, you look in and find rows upon rows of ornate, venerable, leather-binders. Giddy, pleasantly giddy for once, you open up the nearest of the binders - and find that you were right on target! If the family trees and the Accounting of Lives weren't enough to tip you off, the plainly printed Family Patent should have tipped you in. More than just the title - which don't seem to be printed onto the spine, just the cover - there is a distinctive cut to the binders that have been used for the Master Family Patents. Perhaps the Personal Family Patent has this distinctive cut as well ... or perhaps they don't. Or did, back when the Master was made.
Which ... well, if you think about it, you have no way of knowing if a Master Family Patent this old can still be used as a reference for a modern, just issued Master Family Patent. Really, who knows how many changes there have been in the ensuing ... century? If you were to really think about it, the most sensible thing to do would be to borrow the newest one that you could find on the shelves. And as this place is ordered by date after all, then you need to be on the opposite side of the room, don't you? Keeping things brisk, you make your way over to the far-side of the room, only to be interrupted by the thoroughly unwanted tolling of Giotto and his brothers, as they beckon in the Hour of Changing. You can feel bile rising as you start to get shaky. No! No ... how has it already been an hour? Blinking back tears of frustration, you basically run - having to remind yourself twice to slow down on account of your flame. Once you are there, with your eyes fading away, and the room silent, with these stacks of shelves looming over you, the first thing you look for is the distinctive cut of the binder, hoping that it hasn't changed in all of this time. On a whim, you decide to also look for smaller, similar versions of this distinctive cut - and in about half a minute, you find what you have spent more than an hour trying to get your hands on.
