CHAPTER II. "THE MEETING"
It was a sullen Wednesday morning, and the torrent of rain descended upon Route 212 with great fury. The gilt doors of the Pokémon Mansion swung open with a reverberating thud, and two officers of the law, clad in imposing black uniforms--a change from the more amiable navy of the former age--dragged the Jubilife Television anchor and her cameraman into the great hall.
"You will remain here. If you are found to have moved, you shall be made
obsolete," said one of the officers in a threatening tone.
"Uh...yes, officer," said the diffident anchorwoman, quivering in her heels, making a clattering noise against the marble floor.
As the officers disappeared down a corridor lined in crimson tapestries and golden adornments, a maidservant emerged from her quarters, followed closely by two young butlers-in-training. They approached the anchor and the cameraman, inspecting them, and the maidservant shook her head in displeasure at the sight of the two soaked reporters.
"Dear, dear, this will not do! Boys, assist the male. I shall take the female."
"B-but..." squeaked the anchor, "we were told not to move!"
"Oh, rubbish. We were
sent to prepare you."
"Prepare us? For what?" inquired the cameraman.
"For the Champions, of course," said one of the boys in a sobering voice. "Have you not come to behold their presence?"
The door slammed behind the cameraman, as the two adolescent boys stripped him of his trappings. A sable robe was draped over his shoulders and tied loosely at the waist. As the anchorwoman ashamedly covered her delicate areas, the maidservant draped a sable robe over her shoulders, as well, again loosely tying it at the waist. In an almost matronly manner, the maid quietly muttered in the young anchor's ear.
"Dear, all is well. Is this not what you wished? The masters will be delighted to see you. In fact, dear, it was they who summoned you...
personally."
The door opened, and they were escorted down the seemingly endless corridor, the subtle pitter-patter of the rain being the only audible sound to fill the hall. Arriving at an unfamiliar doorway, emblazoned with a singular crest, one of the young butlers placed his hand on the knob, slowly turning it. The clicking of the mechanism was heard by all present and echoed in the hushed passage. Creaking slightly ajar, fragments of a conversation could be discerned.
"Cynthia, dearest, what of the Celestic Ruins?" a subdued male voice spoke in a genial tone. "Surely, it must be considered that the grounds of worship must remain hallowed; the true question is as follows: how shall we persuade the others to conform to the ceremony and retain our image of conserving our foregrounds?"
"Dearest brother, it is not of great difficulty. They must know that it is a revival of our traditions; if they fail to worship, they shall be considered a menace to our sacred cause. It pains me to declare such, but you know it to be true," replied the revered Champion, Cynthia. "Coronet shall be praised above all, and when they are humbled by the sight of our glorious observance, they, too, shall know the truth. We are their
destined rulers, for only we possess the necessary strength to ensure that harmony and order reign above all else."
"Perhaps you are correct. What of the Adamant and Lus---It appears we are not without company," he chuckled, a grin appearing on his pale face. "You may enter!"
Timidly, the anchor and her cameraman stepped forth into the office, catching their first glimpse at the new leaders of the nation. The door closed behind them, and they gazed into each others' eyes, gulping.
"
W-we... were... c-c-cal--"
"Indeed, we have summoned you both. You seem rather fascinated with our presence here at our new home; what troubles you? Is our presence out of place?" asked the imperious young man, moving aside the flaxen hair which obstructed his eye.
"No, sir. As curious citizens, we only wished to--"
"You need not say anymore," interrupted Cynthia. "We have welcomed you into our residence because we wish to be aired in a live television interview."
"
Really?" the cameraman asked excitedly.
"Indeed. Further, the Jubilife Television Network and its subsidiaries, we have resolved, shall now be placed under the jurisdiction of the Pokémon League, removing the burden from the hands of the private sector," said the young man, placing his hand upon Cynthia's shoulder. "You shall be relieved of your duties once the interview is complete."
"Sir, we don't own any stake in the company; we're just reporters!"
"Silence. You shall inform your producer, and he shall inform the president of the network," Cynthia said, handing the anchorwoman a Pokétch.
Reluctant to dial, she peered up at the young man, his grey eyes fixated on her.
"Yes, hello? This is Grace. Yes, the Idol! Our broadcast was interrupted abruptly, but we're fine. Yeah, yeah, we're fine. I'm sure. ...I hope. Listen, I need to talk to you. We were apprehended by the police on live TV, boss, okay? Yeah, I know, good ratings, but that isn't the point! Listen, boss, we're in the same room as the Champions of the Pokémon League, and they want--yes, the Champions!
Will you let me talk?! Alright, yeah, so they would like us to do a live television interview with them."
Cynthia cordially smiled at Grace, the anchorwoman, urging her to relay the whole of the message.
"Look, there's something else I need to tell you, boss. They want you to talk to the president of the network. Yeah, yeah, something about putting the whole TV station under the jurisdiction of the League. Okay, listen! Don't kill the messenger, alright?! Just go to the president, and tell him,
please! They're kind of ordering you to do that... They don't care if he's in a meeting, boss, just please tell him!"
She ended the call.
"He said he would tell the big man," she faint-heartedly announced.
"Ready your cameras, then. We shall broadcast in five minutes," the emphatic young man commanded.
