Millenary Shadows
Of course, the passengers of this chariot could not actually see any of this take place, as they were comfortably seated inside the vessel, waiting to arrive to the last stop of their journey. Students, they were, students headed towards a place far from home: the Silver Hand Academy, named so in honor of Lady Sylvalladine, whose hands clad in silver armor wielded holy spells and mighty swords alike and forged the Order which now sent the most promising of their youth to that academy, built in that place where the skies were made of molten rubies, the Red Citadel of Arcadia. They were sent there to become champions, to become heroes, but for now, they sat within the chariot, led on through the stars and on towards their destiny.
The inside of the chariot where the recruits sat was nothing too extraordinary, truth be told. A white cylindrical chamber with two parallel lines of gray metallic seats laid out, a black cushion on each seat for the comfort of the recruits. Above, the symbol of the Order of the Phantom Blade was again to be found, and once more in a door to the side of the vehicle, which remained closed for the time being. Aside from that, the room in which the students sat and waited was austerely decorated, pieces of Phantom Blade heraldry visible here and there and not much else. On the walls that were not composed of transluminic metal sheets, meters could be seen displaying the temperature, oxygen levels and hull integrity, if only for the peace of mind of the passengers, and similarly, dials were available, one for changing the temperature and another for changing the volume of a small audio device with a built-in station changer that was currently broadcasting a report about increasingly frequent skirmishes between the Order and a group of dragon-worshipping heathens on the other side of the quadrant. The temperature dial was set at the very middle in order to provide a tolerable environment for everyone, while the volume dial was set relatively low so that it could be heard or ignored, depending on the wishes of the passengers. Both, of course, could be overridden by the pilot or lock down automatically if abused somehow, but so far none of that had been necessary.
Conversely to the interior of the chariot, the view outside was far more outstanding. Out there, in the black sea, a hundred stars and a thousand planets were visible, if one paid attention. The chariot had just passed the Medusa Constellation, but the image of the majestic Gryphon had appeared on the horizon in its stead. Down below, a great distance away but still very much dominating everything with its light, the sun of Arcadia, the mighty star Antagon could be seen, great eruptions and sunspots galore visible on its burning surface. Once upon a time, the White Demon had threatened to destroy all of this and more with his army of foul dragons, but thanks to the valiant efforts of the heroes of the Orders of the Known Universe, and the Red Knight's slaying of the King of All Dragons, that threat was no more. A thousand years had passed, and it seemed that the Order of the Phantom Blade and its affiliated territories had recovered much of the splendor they had lost as a result of the Chalice War. There was proof of this for the disbelieving, of course, for there, no longer very far from the recruits' vessel, one could clearly see the crimson skies of the Red Citadel, Cathedral Arcadia, standing proudly amidst the void and housing thousands of aspiring warriors within itself.
A brief monotonous sound quietly echoed through the chamber all of the sudden, shattering the silence only to be followed by a calm female voice. "This is your charioteer speaking. We will arrive at Cathedral Arcadia soon." The voice said before fading, leaving the recruits alone with each other once more.