"A follower of Luna? Good, we've had very little faith among the ranks as of late, and I've not had the time to perform services. If your friend, the Bard, knows a few hymns…" Eos fumbles at her chest. "…I'd show you my Celestial symbol, but it's on loan to one who needs it."
"Quarters and bunking are first come, first serve, the infirmary is in the old armory, equipment stashes have been distributed around the keep. Pair off and watch each other's backs if you have to walk outside in the yard or the ramparts, and that's at all hours of the day and night. The food stores had enough for half a year, that was five months ago. All I ask of you is that when your time comes, you take one of those bastards with you."
The words fall from her lips readily like dry spit, practiced and vacant and uncaring. Marcus speaks up, "I'm just a merchant, what do I do?"
"Everyone fights. No one quits." Eos twists her hoof, the telltale clack of spring-loaded mechanisms bringing an array of scissoring blades to bear around her leg. "If you don't do your job, I'll kill you myself. Ask around for open patrol slots. Dismissed."
"You're going to see Bartuc about the flier?" One of her lieutenants cuts in before she can leave.
"I don't like that featherbrained magus, but it looks like one of his plans actually worked." She storms out of the map room, leaving you and a bewildered Marcus with her lieutenants. Some of them mill off lazily to other posts, a few remain at the table brooding over the maps.
You are free to act.