Backlund, North Borough, 7 Rose Street.
A hired carriage came to a stop. Sifa paid the fare and got out with Spender.
Before them stood a villa-style house, two stories tall. It did not look very large, probably with no more than a dozen rooms.
There was no stable, but there was a small garden. A little boy was playing there, while a lady beside him painted at an easel.
Spender walked to the door and called, "William, Elma, I'm back."
Hearing his voice, the boy playing with a ball in the garden looked up, then shouted, "Dad!"
The lady painting hurriedly set down her brush and opened the door herself, crying happily, "Darling, why are you back early? Didn't you say you wouldn't be back until next year?"
"Good heavens, what happened to you?"
Spender was disheveled and grimy, still dressed in Jedgar Prison uniform, with several freshly scabbed wounds on his face. He looked completely different from usual.
Spender did not explain much. He invited Sifa inside, then returned to his room to wash up and change.
Sifa sat in the living room. A servant brought him black tea and cake, and he ate while looking around.
The furniture and utensils in Spender's home were rather old, but still respectable, befitting a member of the middle class.
A moment later, Spender returned to the living room after washing up. With his hair neatly combed, glasses on, and formal clothes changed into, he was a completely different man from before.
He waved for the servant to leave, then solemnly handed a box to Sifa. "This is the Travels of the Sea you wanted."
Sifa opened the box. Inside indeed lay a manuscript. He gave it a cursory look and found that it was written in Ancient Feysac.
"Very good,