The third day of the Gathering began with the rising of the sun over Aethelgard. The great hall had been transformed once more, the obsidian platform lowered into the floor, replaced by thirteen thrones of black stone that rose in a semicircle around a central throne of gold. The Supreme Champions took their places, their masks gleaming, their blades at their sides. Kaelen sat at the head of the semicircle, the First Supreme Champion, the one who had carried out the Silent Order, the one who had proven that loyalty was everything.
Before them, arranged in ranks that stretched to the walls of the hall, stood the Scorpios. Thousands of them, from every continent, every branch, every rank. They had served in the shadows for years, had given everything to the Syndicate, had never asked for anything in return. They were the ghosts of the ghosts, invisible even to the invisible. Today, they would become visible. Today, they would become the Supreme Battalions.
Kwame stood at the center of the hall, his robes flowing, his mask in place. The golden sword was in his hands, the blade that had knighted the Elders of Africa, the Chaos Lords of Asia, the Supreme Champions of the world. But today, he would not wield it alone. Today, the Supreme Champions would stand beside him, would choose their own, would build the army that would protect the Syndicate for generations.
He raised the sword, and the hall fell silent.
"The Scorpios have served the Syndicate for years. They have been invisible, forgotten, unknown. They have given everything, and the Syndicate has given them nothing but purpose. Today, that changes. Today, they become the Supreme Battalions. Today, they become the army of the Syndicate, the force that protects the Godking, the ones who carry his will across the world."
He lowered the sword, placed it on the central throne.
"Supreme Champions. Choose your battalions."
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Law 23: Concentrate Your Forces
"Conserve your forces and energies by keeping them concentrated at their strongest point. You gain more by finding a rich mine and mining it deeper, than by flitting from one shallow mine to another—intensity defeats extensity every time."
The Supreme Champions would concentrate their forces. Each would choose thirteen Scorpios, the best of the best, the elite of the elite. Together, they would form the Supreme Battalions, one hundred and sixty-nine Champions who would answer only to the Supreme Champions, who would protect the Godking, who would carry his will across the world. It was the oldest law in the book. It was the law that had built the Syndicate. It was the law that would build the Supreme Battalions.
---
Kaelen was the first to choose.
She walked among the Scorpios, her silver mask gleaming, her blade at her side. She had been with the Syndicate since the beginning, had served in the shadows, had never asked for anything. She knew the Scorpios as no one else did, had fought beside them, bled beside them, died beside them. She knew who was worthy.
She chose thirteen Scorpios, one for each of the thirteen thrones that would form the Supreme Battalions. They came from every continent, every branch, every rank. There was a woman from Africa who had fought in the wars that had shaped the continent, who had protected the innocent, who had never wavered. There was a man from Asia who had built the networks that connected the Syndicate, who had seen the future before it arrived, who had never doubted. There was a woman from Europe who had healed the broken bodies and broken souls of the Scorpios, who had mended what others had broken, who had never faltered.
When she had chosen, she returned to her throne, her battalion behind her. Thirteen Scorpios, who would answer only to her, who would protect the Godking, who would carry her will across the world.
The Second Supreme Champion chose next. He was a legend in the Syndicate, had trained generations of Scorpios, had never failed a mission. He chose thirteen Scorpios who had served in the shadows, who had killed when killing was necessary, who had never hesitated. They stood behind him, silent and still, their masks gleaming, their blades ready.
The Third Supreme Champion chose thirteen Scorpios who had been ghosts among ghosts, invisible even to the invisible. They had done what no one else could do, had gone where no one else could go, had become what no one else could become. They stood behind her, invisible and eternal.
The Fourth Supreme Champion chose thirteen Scorpios who had protected the Elders, guarded the Chaos Lords, defended the innocent. They had given everything to the Syndicate, had never asked for anything. They stood behind him, steady and strong.
The Fifth Supreme Champion chose thirteen Scorpios who had fought in the jungles, protected the villages, healed the sick. They were beloved by the people they had saved, feared by the enemies they had destroyed. They stood behind her, fierce and proud.
The Sixth Supreme Champion chose thirteen Scorpios who had built the networks across the outback, trained the Scorpios in the desert, protected the island continent. They stood behind him, weathered and wise.
The Seventh Supreme Champion chose thirteen Scorpios who had led the Hero Champions in the wars that had shaped the continent, who had defeated enemies that no one else could defeat, who had protected the Syndicate when it was most vulnerable. They stood behind her, powerful and proud.
The Eighth Supreme Champion chose thirteen Scorpios who had been strategists in the Program, who had planned the campaigns that had changed the world, who had seen the future before it arrived. They stood behind him, sharp and calculating.
The Ninth Supreme Champion chose thirteen Scorpios who had been healers in the Program, who had saved lives that no one else could save, who had mended the broken bodies and broken souls of the Scorpios. They stood behind her, gentle and strong.
The Tenth Supreme Champion chose thirteen Scorpios who had been diplomats in the Program, who had negotiated the treaties that had kept the Syndicate safe, who had built the alliances that had made the Syndicate strong. They stood behind him, calm and steady.
The Eleventh Supreme Champion chose thirteen Scorpios who had been engineers in the Program, who had built the systems that protected the Syndicate, who had created the technology that made the Syndicate invisible. They stood behind her, brilliant and bold.
The Twelfth Supreme Champion chose thirteen Scorpios who had been survivors in the Program, who had endured what no one else could endure, who had risen from the ashes of their past to become something new. They stood behind him, unbroken and unyielding.
And the Thirteenth Supreme Champion, the last to choose, chose thirteen Scorpios who had been with the Syndicate since the beginning, who had served in the shadows, who had never asked for anything. They stood behind her, silent and still, their masks gleaming, their blades ready.
One hundred and sixty-nine Champions. Thirteen battalions. The army of the Syndicate, the force that would protect the Godking, the ones who would carry his will across the world.
---
Law 34: Act Like a King to Be Treated Like One
"The way you carry yourself will often determine how you are treated: In the long run, appearing vulgar or common will make people disrespect you. By acting regally and confident of your power, you make yourself seem destined to wear a crown."
The Supreme Champions acted like kings and queens when they chose their battalions. They were the highest rank in the Syndicate, the ones who stood beside the Godking, the ones who carried his will across the world. They had earned the right to choose, the right to lead, the right to wear the crowns that the Syndicate had given them.
---
The swords were brought forward.
They were carried by the Scorpios who had served longest, who had given everything, who had never asked for anything. There were one hundred and eighty-two of them, each forged in the heart of the Isle of Ghosts, each unique, each perfect.
For the Supreme of the Supreme, there was the Imperior Sword. It was forged from gold that had been mined from the island's heart, from the gold that had built the Syndicate, from the gold that would outlast them all. Its hilt was carved from obsidian, its blade etched with the symbols of every continent, every Chaos Lord, every Elder who had served the Syndicate. It was the sword of the Godking, the sword that had knighted the Elders of Africa, the Chaos Lords of Asia, the Supreme Champions of the world. It was the sword that would lead the Syndicate into the future.
Kwame took the Imperior Sword, felt its weight, its coldness, its finality. He had carried the golden sword for years, had used it to build an empire. But this was different. This was his. This was the sword that would carry his will across the world, that would protect the Syndicate for generations, that would outlast him.
For the Supreme Champions, there were thirteen swords of diamond. They were forged from the hardest substance in the world, from the diamonds that had been mined from the island's depths, from the stones that would never break. Their hilts were carved from gold, their blades etched with the symbols of the Supreme Champions, their edges sharp enough to cut through anything.
Kaelen took her sword, felt its weight, its coldness, its finality. She had carried the blade that killed Marcus for years, had used it to carry out the Silent Order. But this was different. This was hers. This was the sword that would protect the Godking, that would carry his will across the world, that would outlast her.
The other Supreme Champions took their swords, each unique, each perfect. They were the highest rank in the Syndicate, the ones who stood beside the Godking, the ones who would carry his will across the world. They deserved swords that would never break, that would never fail, that would never be forgotten.
For the Champions of the Supreme Battalions, there were one hundred and sixty-nine swords of gold. They were forged from the same gold that had built the Syndicate, from the gold that would outlast them all. Their hilts were carved from wood that had been grown on the Isle of Ghosts, their blades etched with the symbols of their battalions, their edges sharp enough to cut through anything.
The Champions took their swords, felt their weight, their coldness, their finality. They had been invisible for years, had served in the shadows, had never asked for anything. But now they were visible. Now they were known. Now they were the Supreme Battalions, and they would never be invisible again.
---
Law 48: Assume Formlessness
"By taking a shape, by having a visible plan, you open yourself to attack. Instead of a statue that can be shattered, be like water. Take a shape that fits the moment, then dissolve and take another. Be formless, shapeless, like water."
The Supreme Battalions had taken their shapes. They were the army of the Syndicate, the force that would protect the Godking, the ones who would carry his will across the world. They were formless no longer. They were visible. They were known. They were the Supreme Battalions, and they would never be invisible again.
---
The ceremony ended as the sun was setting over Aethelgard. The Supreme Champions stood on the platform, their diamond swords raised, their masks gleaming. The Champions of the Supreme Battalions stood behind them, their gold swords raised, their eyes steady. The Chaos Lords knelt before them, the Elders bowed, the Scorpios cheered.
Kwame stood at the center of it all, the Imperior Sword in his hands, the weight of the future on his shoulders. He looked at Kaelen, at the woman who had carried out the Silent Order, who had killed the traitor, who had proven that loyalty was everything. He looked at the Supreme Champions, at the best of the best, at the elite of the elite. He looked at the Champions of the Supreme Battalions, at the ghosts who had become visible, who had become known, who had become the future.
"You are the Supreme Battalions," he said. "You are the army of the Syndicate, the force that protects the Godking, the ones who carry his will across the world. You answer to the Supreme Champions, and the Supreme Champions answer to me. You are the sword and shield of the Syndicate. You are the future. You are the ghosts who will never be forgotten."
He raised the Imperior Sword, held it above his head.
"The Syndicate is whole. The ghosts are visible. The future is ours."
The hall erupted in cheers. The Supreme Champions raised their diamond swords, the Champions raised their gold swords, the Chaos Lords bowed their heads, the Elders knelt. Kwame stood at the center of it all, the Supreme of the Supreme, the Godking who had become visible.
And somewhere in the back of the hall, Abena watched, her eyes wet, her heart full, her hand on the place where their future would grow.