Going to the front line

The front line was less than a mile from where I spoke with Marshall McBride. It was easy enough to find, but what I encountered were not soldiers. Our **** consisted of peasants wearing poor leather armor, armed with dull swords and overcome with fear and panic.

“Are you coming to aid us?”, one of them ran up to me as I approached.
“Y... Yes!”, I replied, startled by the fear in his eyes.
“Thank the Light! Those orcs, those savages are threatening to overwhelm us!”
“Overwhelm us?”
“Yes! Our main fighting party today was destroyed, all of them taken captives!”
“Fear not, warrior,” I replied, trying my best to sound courageous. “I, Branford, have arrived!”

His eyes lit up with optimism!

“Praise the Light! And where is your squadron, sir? Where are your soldiers?”
“Erm, well, it’s... just me.”

He blinked a few times.

“But, sir, there must be at least a few dozens of orcs there! How can you possibly handle them by yourself?”
“Have no worry, just watch!”