Marak posted the last two men beside the doors and returned to the entry foyer. Marak was halfway to the doors leading out to the front steps when an elderly woman with gray hair stepped in front of him.

“My, my,” she smiled as she looked up at him, “if it isn’t young Marak. Don’t you look decked out to impress the women?”

Marak looked down at the diminutive woman dressed in the traditional staff garb of a pale yellow tunic with the broad embroidered belt and an embroidered lituk tree inside a green circle on her left breast. His face broke into a wide grin as he recognized the Lord’s Minder. Flora had taken charge of Marak when he and his mother arrived at Lituk Valley. Marak was only six at the time and he was hysterical for days while his mother was dressed in slave browns and assigned to the slave shacks. Flora took it upon herself to soothe the small boy and she had been his only friend in those early days. Five or six years old was considered old enough to take the Vows of Service and everyone else treated him with scorn for acting so hysterical. Only Flora offered him comfort and Marak had not seen her in years.

“Flora!” exclaimed Marak. “You are as beautiful as ever.”

“So, you have the tongue to impress the ladies, as well,” blushed Flora. “You’ve turned into a mighty handsome man, young Marak, and a Squad Leader already. Oh, I’ve seen you occasionally through the windows, but to see you close up like this brings joy to my heart. Your mother must be proud.”

Marak’s face turned into a deep frown at the comment. “I would not know,” Marak replied bitterly. “I only see her from a distance. I would love to just talk with her and hold her hand.”