Robert Miller’s spirits lifted, and he immediately recalled the message issued by the baron, which mentioned a goblin murder. For the baron to post a bounty because of the victim, either the person was important themselves, or they were a relative, family member, or close friend of someone important.

Since the deceased was someone of status, if they knew how to use weapons, they would naturally be equipped with a fine blade. Could the short sword at his waist be the weapon of the deceased?

But if it was the goblins who killed him, why didn’t they take it? Goblins should be extremely eager for iron or steel weapons; if they killed someone for loot, they would never leave a weapon lying on the ground.

Robert Miller couldn’t figure this out for the moment. However, if the victim had been killed by a wild beast, it would make sense—beasts have no use for weapons, and because goblins were active nearby, the blame could easily be pinned on them.

There might be many twists and turns in the story, but it was no longer Robert Miller’s concern.

“Yes!” Robert Miller admitted frankly; what the other party asked him was entirely true. As for any possible misunderstandings, he couldn’t be bothered to correct them—people could interpret things however they liked.

“Then come with me!”

Robert Miller had no choice but to follow this squad leader. Before long, they arrived at a graveyard, which was also the cemetery behind the goddess’s altar. After walking a bit further into the graveyard, Robert Miller saw the back of a man standing there.

“Wait here a moment.” The squad leader instructed, then jogged over and stopped, respectfully speaking with the man. Robert Miller looked around, and before long, saw the squad leader beckoning to him, signaling him to come over.

“Hello, Captain Corey Carter!” Robert Miller said, a bit unsure how to address the man or what the proper etiquette was. Neither his memories from Earth nor those from the town included any education in manners.

This was a robust middle-aged man. From a distance, just judging by the size of his clothes, Robert Miller could tell he was well-built, with a large frame that could support a lot of muscle. Now, up close, Robert Miller instinctively felt this was a soldier—he exuded an aura of iron and resolve. Though his features were unremarkable, his gaze was sharp, and the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, along with a few strands of silver in his hair, spoke of the merciless passage of time.

Robert Miller didn’t know the proper etiquette, but it was clear the other man didn’t care either; he simply nodded. “Let me see the sword.” Robert Miller quickly unfastened it from his waist, intending to hand it over directly, but the squad leader intercepted it midway and respectfully presented it to the man.

The middle-aged man took the sword, and with the index and middle fingers of his left hand, slowly ran them along the spine of the blade all the way to the tip.

Robert Miller lowered his head slightly to show respect, and secretly glanced at the tombstone. The stone marker was fairly clean, but the writing on it had faded. It read, “Uhtred died in the Holy Year 3125,” followed by a more detailed account of his life.

He immediately felt puzzled and couldn’t quite make sense of it.

Robert Miller had originally guessed that this middle-aged man was Captain Corey Carter, a prominent figure in the town, and that the goblin bounty was issued because his relative had died and was now buried in this grave. But after carefully reading the date on the tombstone, he realized it was from more than ten years ago.

Robert Miller looked down at the ground, lost in thought, but before long, he heard Captain Corey Carter say, “You killed the goblin and avenged my family. Since you obtained this short sword, it’s yours now. Hmm, your name is Robert Miller, right? But on the hilt is my Fasni family’s crest—you can’t keep that.”

So the pattern on the hilt, which Robert Miller had thought was just decoration, was actually the Fasni family crest. Robert Miller blushed with embarrassment, feeling woefully ignorant about heraldry and etiquette—like an illiterate peasant in this medieval-like world.

Lost in thought, Robert Miller only caught the last sentence: “You may all go now.”

Then he was led away by the squad leader.

After a while, the squad leader, Richard Carter, gave a brief explanation: “Captain Corey Carter had a nephew who died recently. He was Uhtred’s only surviving bloodline. Fourteen years ago, the captain was still a soldier. Uhtred died in battle against the orcs, sacrificing himself to protect the captain. Later, the captain distinguished himself in battle and was promoted by the baron, eventually being granted knighthood and becoming Sir Corey Foster!”

Robert Miller nodded silently. So the one in the grave wasn’t the victim, but the victim’s father. Corey Carter was praying to his brother, feeling guilty for not taking better care of his brother’s son.

After a few more casual words, the two left the graveyard.

Richard Carter said, “The captain means for me to look after you a bit. If you have any trouble that needs solving, you can come to me.”

Robert Miller immediately thought of his debt and felt a pang of regret. If he had brought it up directly to Sir Corey Carter earlier, perhaps Corey Carter would have arranged for someone to pay it off for him.

But now, although he had received a promise of help from Richard Carter, 100 silver coins was no small sum even for Richard Carter, and there was no reason for him to pay it on Robert Miller’s behalf.