Chapter 9: The Hunting Plan
The moment Ian saw through the conspiracy at the heart of the Game, the information became his single greatest weapon.
His path forward was now clear. He had to shed his current identity and lie in wait for other players at the locations they were most likely to use as meeting points.
He was currently in Harrenhal. From there, the most logical meeting point for players was the Crossroads Inn, situated at the junction of the Kingsroad, the River Road, and the High Road.
It was the nexus connecting the North, the Riverlands, the Vale, and the Crownlands. Ian was certain that countless players would pass through, whether they were traveling there to forge alliances or simply on their way to somewhere else.
The next questions, however, were far more challenging.
How would he disguise himself? And once he found another player, how would he ensure victory?
Neither problem had an easy solution.
First, there was the matter of changing his initial appearance. The idea was sound, but the execution was fraught with difficulty.
None of his current equipment was superfluous; each piece was a core part of his build and a dead giveaway of his identity.
His sword, his armor, his warhorse—these were the very reasons he had chosen to start as a hedge knight. They were the foundation of his combat strength.
With only two hundred silver stags to his name, he couldn't afford better gear. If he wanted to change his appearance, he would be forced to downgrade his equipment, which would cripple his ability to fight.
He could easily find himself in a situation where he successfully ambushed another player, only to be defeated.
Unlike me, a civil servant in my past life, whose fighting ability is entirely dependent on the system's stats, many players drawn by the prize money were real-world martial arts champions or masters of historical fencing.
With their wealth of experience and skill, their combat effectiveness would far exceed what was written on their character sheets.
Unless… unless their character's average attributes are laughably low? No more than a five?
"A traveling merchant!"
The thought struck him like a thunderbolt.
If he hunted a player who had chosen to be a merchant, it wouldn't matter if their soul belonged to the Mountain or the Sword of the Morning. It would be utterly useless. They wouldn't even have the strength to lift a greatsword.
It was just like Arya before her training with the Faceless Men. She could have taken Needle and tried to kill the Hound while he slept, but even if he stood perfectly still and let her, the blade wouldn't have pierced his armor.
So, was it possible? Could he hunt a merchant?
The moment the idea formed, connections began to fire rapidly in his mind.
First, it was undeniable that "Traveling Merchant" would be a popular starting choice. There had to be a great many of them.
Second, driven by the pressure of the "First Blood" mission, these powerless merchants would never dare to attend an arranged meeting with supposed allies. They lacked the means to kill other players and, more importantly, they would never trust the intentions of anyone they met.
Hiring mercenaries was an option, but also a tremendous risk. The most common starting class, hedge knights, were themselves players. How could a merchant trust one? It would mean venturing into the very places where mercenaries—and player killers—congregated.
Therefore, merchants were the perfect prey for Ian at this stage. They would be alone, without allies or hired swords.
But this presented a new problem. If they were avoiding the meeting points, how would he find them?
"No," Ian muttered, shaking his head. "There are still clues."
Without the ability to score points by killing other players, a merchant's only hope for advancement lay in their main quest line.
And what would a merchant's main quest be?
Ian couldn't guess the objectives for other classes, but for a merchant, the design was obvious. No matter the details, the core of their quests would be simple: run a business and make a profit.
Furthermore, merchants began with a colossal advantage. Unlike knights and sellswords who started penniless, merchants began the game with a full one hundred gold dragons.
For Ian, a quest like "Earn 1,000 Gold Dragons" was a near impossibility. But for a merchant, with smart and careful management, it was entirely achievable.
It stood to reason that these players would get to work immediately.
And as for where to conduct business, the Riverlands, where Ian currently was, was a prime location.
The region was a hub of trade routes, and at this moment in time, it was not yet plunged into the chaos of the War of the Five Kings. Under the rule of House Tully, the peace was well-kept, a model of stability compared to the rest of Westeros. Bandits were few and far between.
It was an excellent place to build a trade enterprise.
The question was, which commodity would be the most profitable?
Northern furs? A solid choice. One could buy them cheaply in the villages of the North and sell them for a fortune in the cities of the South.
It was a perfect trade route. The price of furs could easily double in the southern cities, and even more if one smuggled them to avoid customs duties.
But time was a critical issue. Westeros was vast. Even starting in the North, transporting a shipment of furs to the South would take two months at a minimum. For players who had a two-month deadline before assassins were sent after them, the fur trade was likely too slow to be attractive.
If not furs, then what about iron ore from the Westerlands?
The profits were just as high, and the trade route was much shorter. The distance from the Westerlands to an ideal port in the Riverlands or the Reach was less than a third of the northern route.
Unfortunately, with the system's inventory limited to a single cubic decimeter, ore would have to be transported by mule train. Given its density, the volume would be small, and the profits might not be as high as they seemed.
Moreover, iron ore might be a controlled commodity. In the feudal system of Westeros, true state monopolies were nearly impossible, but… controlled commodities?
"Salt!" Ian's heart leaped with excitement.
In the history of his own world, things like salt and iron were strictly controlled by the state. Here in Westeros, the feudal system scattered governance among hundreds of lords, making it impossible for the Crown to monopolize the salt and iron trades. That business was left to the lords and merchants.
In his past life, trading salt privately was a crime punishable by death, yet it didn't stop people from flocking to it. The profits were unimaginable.
Now, he asked himself, which merchant player, starting in or near the Riverlands, could possibly resist the temptation of the salt trade?
"If they want to trade in salt," Ian whispered to himself, calling forth the map of Westeros, long since committed to memory.