It would have been an understatement to say that the scene before the clerk was anything short of busy. An older man, with a long, almost wizardly beard, dressed in a very professional-looking blue suit and tie, sitting at his desk and looking over mounds of paperwork. And while the window behind the man gave way to a lovely view of the city and assorted greenery, he himself looked more than a little tired and stressed. But, when one was the President of an entire nation, that tended to be the way. Still, the clerk waited, briefly fumbling with his pudding-bowl haircut, as his superior continued with his phone call, looking very much like he really didn't want to. "Yes, Premier. I realise that this is an important matter, but you have to understand, these things were decided a long time ago. Making last-minute changes like that is going to ruffle feathers, you had to have known that." He waited, hearing the voice on the other side and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I realise a man of your importance might not like it, but that's where you're going to be seated. The hundredth Peace Day celebrations is going to see the leaders of nations all over the world, and not everybody gets to be in the front row."
Here, the clerk cleared his throat, causing the President to look up. As quietly as he could, the clerk whispered to him. "Sir. A development," he said, offering a piece of paper to his leader.
The President accepted the paper, looking to it and appearing, at last, actually happy about something. "Mr Premier, it seems you might get your wish. Turns out the Chancellor of Weimar will be unable to attend the event due to some health problems. They'll be sending their aide to represent their nation instead. Now, obviously, an aide being in the front row will be somewhat unorthodox, so they'll be reassigned further back. If you're interested..." A barrage of excited words on the other side of the line caused a smile for the President. "I'm glad to hear it. I'll send word and we'll make the necessary changes. I trust that will be all?" After waiting for the response, he nodded. "Very good. Then I will see you at the event." Finally, he put the phone down, letting out a long sigh after doing so. "I swear, if it's not one thing with the Union of Volga, it's another." Looking down to the paper that had been handed to him, the President offered his aide a small smile. "Thanks for the timely lifeline, Stygian."
The younger man nodded to him. "Just doing my job, President Starswirl."
Then, before the conversation could progress any further, the door of the office opened, and both men looked on as a woman with long, green hair, roughly around the same age as the President, entered, carrying a file in her hands. The leader of the nation reclined back into his chair at the sight of her, his smile widening. "Ah. Miss Mistmane. Good morning. I trust the day goes well for you?"
The new arrival glanced to Stygian, then to the President. "It does, Sir. But I'm afraid there are...developments."
Starswirl raised an eyebrow to her, then glanced down to the aforementioned file she'd been holding. After only a moment he noticed the black "H" that was printed in the corner of it, and his expression became one of seriousness once more. "Yes...of course." He turned to his clerk. "Stygian. I think you're needed at the committee for discussing the decorations for the upcoming celebrations, yes? Might be worth popping in and seeing them." Stygian, for his part, understood an important meeting when he saw one, and so gathered his own papers before giving a nod to the President, after which he made his way out, with Mistmane politely opening the door for him as he left. After making sure they were alone, with all doors and windows closed, Starswirl got up from his desk, reaching out and accepting the file Mistmane had brought. Opening it, he looked at a number of notes and, more importantly, satellite photographs. One in particular caught his interest, which seemed to depict, of all things, a pair of massive robots, one yellow and one a combination of red, white and blue. Narrowing his eyes to this, he spoke. "So...the supposed 'meteor strike' from a few days back was nothing of the sort then?"
"It would appear so, Mr President," Mistmane confirmed. After a brief pause, she continued. "And there is more. It seems the seven have become embroiled in this."
Starswirl looked to her, then to the photo again. Sure enough, in the corner, there appeared to be a small dot of pink, utterly dwarfed by the main figures of the picture. The old man sighed. "Can't those girls go one, single week without something bizarre happening to them?!"
"I'm afraid it doesn't seem so," Mistmane added dryly. Then, after looking over her shoulder, she spoke again. "Sir...given what you and I know...we always suspected that it was only a matter of time before something like this occurred."
Putting the file to his desk, Starswirl rubbed his temples as he sat back down in his chair. "I know. Ever since I took this office I'd been warned." He looked again to the files. "Until now, the worst I had to deal with was a group of girls who seemed to be able to handle what was happening, but this? This is new. This is bigger. This is..."
"More than they know how to resolve," Mistmane finished for him.
Looking up to her, Starswirl nodded solemnly. "To put it mildly." After a long silence, he leaned forward, clasping his hands together upon the desk and speaking in the authoritative tone of his station. "Before today I had been content to sit and watch things play out. Now it seems that things have escalated. Mere observation is a luxury we can no longer afford. Action is required."
Mistmane nodded, and while she already knew the answer, she nevertheless felt the need to ask the question. "Then what are your orders, Sir?"
Starswirl closed his eyes, mentally weighing the consequences of what he was about to do. But, in the end, he knew he had little choice. And so, after taking hold of the file again, he gave his command. "Send word to them. It's time the girls knew...that we know." After a moment, he glanced to the phone on the side of his desk. "And I...need to reach out to an old friend."