Chapter 18: The Scroll That Shook the Court
The sun rose slowly over Solmaris, casting golden light across its marble spires and cobbled streets. But within the capital's high council court, the atmosphere was anything but calm.
Servants bustled with unusual haste. Guards whispered rumors under their breath. And among the nobility and court officials gathering in the Grand Assembly Hall, one name was on everyone's lips:
Farhan Rahman.
At the center of it all stood Farhan, dressed not in noble robes, but in his usual traveling coat. Clean, modest, yet unmistakably foreign. In his hand was the scroll Velda had given him — proof of the Unseen Hand's manipulation, signed decrees, bribe records, and payment ledgers from Graymere's puppet lord to shadowy operatives.
He handed it to the herald with calm finality.
"Present this to the Assembly," he said. "Let the truth be read."
A noble scoffed. "A commoner dares interrupt royal court proceedings?"
But Farhan didn't flinch. "If the truth disrupts your ceremony, then your ceremony needs disrupting."
Murmurs spread like wildfire.
At the King's signal, the scroll was unrolled and read aloud.
"…funds diverted to silence local opposition in Graymere…"
"…arson of merchant property to discredit foreign influence…"
"…under directive of Councilor Veynar, instructed by anonymous high authority…"
Each sentence dropped like a stone into still water.
By the end, the hall was no longer quiet — it was shaking with reaction.
Councilor Veynar, red-faced and trembling, leapt to his feet. "This is slander! Fabricated lies from a profiteering trickster!"
Farhan turned calmly to face him. "Then call for a truthstone inspection. Let the royal archivists verify the seals and handwriting."
The room fell silent.
Even Veynar knew — truthstones were unerring. Magic designed to detect forgery, influence, and tampering. If he protested the test, it would confirm suspicion. If he accepted, the truth would speak for itself.
King Eldrin, regal and composed, raised a hand.
"Bring the truthstone."
—
Two hours later, the results came in.
Authentic. Every line.
A hush settled over the court. King Eldrin's voice was quiet but clear.
"Councilor Veynar, you are hereby suspended from office pending full investigation. Until then, your estate shall be sealed, and your private guard disbanded."
The council erupted into a flurry of reactions — some in protest, others in stunned acceptance.
And Farhan… stood tall.
But he knew this wasn't the end.
It was only the beginning.
—
Later that day, Farhan returned to his compound in Solmaris' merchant district. His staff — Lyssa, Denel, Arlin, and even a few of the younger assistants — greeted him with unspoken pride.
"Word's spreading fast," Denel said, pouring a glass of cider. "You just punched a hole in the most secretive cabal in the realm."
Lyssa added, "You didn't just defend your reputation. You won hearts. Peasants are talking. Mages are whispering. Even a few nobles are calling you… the Merchant Liberator."
Farhan blinked. "That's… dramatic."
Arlin grinned. "You are dramatic."
Farhan chuckled and sat down. "Well, let's not celebrate yet. The Unseen Hand may be wounded, but they're not broken. If anything, they'll retaliate harder."
"Then we hit first," Denel said. "Graymere was just one node. If we follow the funds, we can find others."
Farhan nodded. "Good. But we need more than counterattacks. We need something that makes them obsolete."
He stood and unrolled a map on the table.
"New hubs. New product lines. But more than that — a network."
Lyssa's eyes lit up. "A real merchant guild?"
"No," Farhan said. "A new kind of guild. Not just traders. Inventors, healers, teachers. People with knowledge. People willing to share."
Denel raised a brow. "A cross-world knowledge society?"
"Exactly," Farhan said. "I'll use my cheat — Online Shopping — not just to sell, but to build bridges. We'll create an alliance that renders secrecy and fear outdated."
The group sat in silence for a moment. Then Lyssa smiled.
"I think I like this crazy plan."
—
The very next day, Farhan launched two new initiatives.
The first was the Enlightenment Caravan — a traveling show of knowledge and tools. It featured educational pamphlets, free health clinics, and demonstrations of "future tech" like water purifiers and hand-cranked generators.
The second was subtler: a series of encrypted magical crystals distributed among trusted allies. Using modified crystal-echo technology (blended with Bluetooth speakers and cheap mobile sound systems from Earth), Farhan created a secure, cross-region communication network.
A kingdom-wide merchant whisper line.
The buzz was immediate.
—
But the Unseen Hand was not idle.
From the shadowed catacombs beneath a ruined library, the surviving council plotted their next move.
"The boy has exposed us," rasped the Raven. "But he has not destroyed us."
The Serpent hissed. "Then we destroy him. Not with blades. With doubt."
They rolled out parchments — blackmail. Fabricated evidence. Dark whispers to plant among key cities. Spells of illusion to frame Farhan's people as thieves or heretics.
And worst of all… they began working on an artifact.
The Mask of Echoes — an ancient relic said to distort perception itself. If deployed in a city, it could create mass hallucinations, false memories, even riots.
Their target?
Wynthorne.
One of Farhan's fastest-growing merchant hubs.
—
Meanwhile, Farhan received an urgent message via crystal echo.
"Sir," came the voice of Mira, his lead merchant in Wynthorne, "something's… wrong. People are turning violent. They say we're poisoning the well. That your lanterns are cursed. It doesn't make sense."
Farhan's heart dropped.
"Pull back your people. I'm coming."
He packed supplies, gadgets, and a hidden failsafe — a compact EMP device disguised as a metal orb. It wasn't strong enough to fry major electronics, but if his suspicion was right, it would scramble enchanted illusions within a limited radius.
He saddled up beside Denel and Arlin.
"Wynthorne's under attack," he said. "Not by swords. By lies."
Denel readied her blades. "Then let's clear the fog."
—
As Farhan's party rode westward, the first signs of distortion greeted them at the village outskirts.
Posters smeared with red ink. Children crying about "demon lanterns." And a temple priest preaching that "the foreigner has brought cursed stars."
Farhan's eyes narrowed.
"It's begun."
He activated the orb.
A pulse of silent energy rippled through the air.
The red ink peeled away — revealing ordinary paint.
The cries stopped — illusions dispelled.
And the priest? He collapsed as the enchantment around his mouth cracked.
Behind the mask… was a rogue illusionist.
"Caught you," Farhan muttered.
—
The next few days were a storm of repairs, clean-up, and careful explanation. But the people of Wynthorne slowly began to see clearly again.
And Farhan made sure they *knew* who had tried to deceive them.
The scrolls were reprinted. The speech was held. And as truth swept through the region like wildfire, something else bloomed:
Loyalty.
Wynthorne didn't just return to normal — it became his stronghold.
The Unseen Hand's scheme had failed.
But Farhan knew it wouldn't be their last.
As he stood before a crowd at the city square, a lantern in one hand and a scroll in the other, he declared:
"This world is full of shadows. But shadows only win when light stops spreading. So let's keep spreading it."
The cheers echoed for blocks.
And far away, in the Unseen Hand's lair… the Raven cracked his fist against the wall.
"He's turning the people. One city at a time."
The Serpent coiled tighter. "Then we stop him. Not with lies. But with war."