The secretive and heavenly lair of the Auburn Order is an impressive feat of engineering. It is true that the Hafjeris are not the most technologically advanced civilization in the known universe, but they do have extremely sophisticated technology that allowed the ancient members of the Auburn Order to float a castle into the upper levels of the Hafjeran atmosphere. It is a complex system of motors and propellers strategically placed along the foundation of the castle that keeps it aloft and it is mostly solar powered.
Whadgaf oscillates between amazement at the beauty of the decor inside the lair, and panic that she has been kidnapped and whisked away to a place that should not exist. She worries that no one will ever find her and her attacks against her abductor have been largely ineffective, though the abductor’s face is swollen and Whadgaf managed to put a crack in his beak. He has not released her since they made their way inside and when they are approached by others with the same red colored wings, he finally loosens his grip and stands next to Whadgaf. She stretches her wings gingerly, they ache because of the abductor’s firm grip, and while she collects herself, her red-winged hosts assemble in a line, wing to wing, in front of her. They are smiling to welcome her and they wince when she takes another shot at her abductor. Whadgaf hits him square in the eye and he falls like dead weight.
“Let me go.” Whadgaf assumes a defensive position, ready to fight to her last breath.
“The rumors about the owning class must be wildly exaggerated.” A woman from the ranks of the order says and she moves to check on her fallen comrade. “You should be defenseless against Frial here,” she motions for others to help Frial and they drag his unconscious body away for medical attention. “But your training is better than his.”
“She the daughter of flight command,” another of the order members offers.
“True, but even they haven’t given our order as much trouble as Whadgaf here.” The woman says, not approaching Whadgaf too closely.
“Frial is still in training. His failure is more an indictment of his weakness than an endorsement of her strength.”
“Don’t sell this one short.” The woman says.
“Are you going to let me go or not?” Whadgaf asks.
“Not until we have achieved our goals. And they are only attainable with your cooperation.”
“Then why take me from my home? I would never cooperate with criminals.”
The woman nods thoughtfully. “Of course, we expected as much. Your abduction was a desperate last resort. But we hope that our story will move you.”
The woman introduces herself as Marfgad, the leader of the Auburn Order.
“Why did you all change the color of your wings?” Whadgaf asks, never letting her guard down.
Many in the order laugh out loud.
“We did not change the color of our wings. The Auburn Order are descendents of an ancient Hafjeran family that rejected the government of the Ruling Council, of your family. We retreated here and we have done what we can to oppose the council that insists on a separation in society that encourages secrecy, lies and fraud.”
Whadgaf shakes her head. “Really? This is why you brought me here? To turn on my family?”
“Maybe,” Marfgad says. “If you view it as family betrayal, then yes. But our mission is to help all Hafjeris, not just those like you who were born into privilege. If you care about your people, your future, you will help us.”
Whadgaf drops her shoulders and her wing tips brush the stone floor of the castle. She rotates her head to loosen her neck, then stretches her arms and legs. The members of the order look at her curiously and whisper to one another.
“What do you say Whadgaf? Can I tell you how you can help us?” Marfgad is just as puzzled as the other members of the order.
“You can say what you want,” Whadgaf says as she extends her wings and lifts off the ground. She is an impressive sight. “But I am a proud member of the Jiris family and I am dedicated to our continued success as long as the first lights rise on Hajeran. You are the enemy of my family line, and I will die to stop you.” As she finishes, Whadgaf lunges at members of the order, swinging her fists and legs with a precision that shows she is not a stranger to combat.
Marfgad sighs to herself as she watched the commotion. “Don’t hurt her. Just make sure she’s subdued.”
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