Now that Ian had seen through the scheming game designer's trap, all this knowledge became his greatest trump card.
His next move was clear—he needed to disguise his starting identity, then stake out one of the likely meeting points where players would expect to reunite with their allies.
Since he was currently near Harrenhal, the closest hotspot players might head to was obviously the Crossroads Inn—where the north-south Kingsroad met the east-west Riverlands and Valley roads.
That intersection served as a major junction between the North, the Riverlands, the Vale, and the Crownlands. Ian was certain a good number of players would be passing through, whether to meet allies or simply by chance.
The question was: how could he disguise himself? And once disguised, how would he take down other players?
Neither was easy to solve.
Changing his starting traits sounded great in theory, but was hard to pull off in practice.
Every piece of equipment he wore right now—sword, armor, helmet, even his horse—was vital. These weren't just cosmetic choices. This was why he'd chosen the "Hedge Knight" background in the first place: for the gear.
With only 200 silver stags to his name, affording better armor was out of the question. If he wanted to change appearances, he'd have to downgrade his gear—at the cost of combat power.
And what if he ran into another player? He might not even be able to trick or kill them before getting killed himself.
Unlike him—who'd worked a desk job in his past life and relied purely on stat points for combat ability—many of the other players were ex-military, martial arts champions, or weapons experts. With real-life fighting experience, they could easily punch above their stat level.
Unless… their stats were truly pitiful?
"Traveling merchant." Ian's eyes lit up with inspiration.
If someone started out as a traveling merchant, even if you put the soul of the Mountain or a sword saint into their body, they'd be useless. They couldn't even lift their own weapons.
It'd be like Arya trying to stab the Hound with Needle before her assassin training—he could stand there and let her poke him, and she still wouldn't break the skin.
So… what if he hunted a traveling merchant?
The moment the thought emerged, several threads of logic began linking themselves together in his mind.
First, traveling merchant was definitely one of the most popular starting classes. No doubt many players had chosen it.
Second, driven by the "First Blood" quest, these unarmed merchants wouldn't dare to meet their allies. They lacked both the means to kill others and the courage to trust anyone else.
They might consider hiring mercenaries, but ironically, mercenary players had the least distinguishable appearances among popular picks. For the merchants, hiring one could be more dangerous than helpful—they might end up getting backstabbed. Most would rather avoid taverns and roads frequented by sellswords entirely.
That meant traveling merchants would be alone and unguarded—ideal prey for Ian.
However, the downside was they wouldn't be heading to any designated meetup points. How would he find them?
"Wait, no… there's still a lead." Ian shook his head. "They can't fight, so their only path to points is through main quests. That's their only hope."
What kind of main quest would merchants get?
He couldn't guess what other classes were assigned, but merchants? It had to be trade-related. Buy low, sell high.
They had one huge advantage over others too: they started with a whopping 100 gold dragons. While Ian barely had enough coin to feed a horse, these guys were loaded.
A quest like "earn 1,000 gold dragons" might be unrealistic for him, but for a merchant? With good planning, they might actually pull it off.
So they'd definitely go into trade. Which made the Riverlands—where Ian was now—the perfect hunting ground.
The region was a central hub, with well-maintained roads and relatively low bandit activity. Tully governance had kept the area safe, especially compared to the chaos that would erupt later during the War of the Five Kings.
A great place for trading.
But the key question was: what goods would these merchants try to move?
Northern furs? That could work. Buy cheap pelts in the North, sell them in southern cities at triple the price—especially if they smuggled them and avoided taxes.
Perfect in theory, but impractical. Westeros was huge. A single round trip from the North to the South could take two months at best.
For players who risk getting assassinated in a month or two, that wasn't exactly an attractive venture.
Iron ore from the Westerlands? Profitable, shorter routes.
But again, there was a problem—players could only carry so much in their system inventory. Transporting ore meant relying on wagons and pack animals. Low quantity meant low profit.
Also, wasn't iron a government-controlled good? Wait, no—that was in ancient China.
"Salt!" Ian's eyes lit up.
Salt and iron had been state monopolies in imperial China, but Westeros wasn't like that. Power was fragmented across hundreds of lords. The royal family couldn't possibly control every salt mine or trade route. Salt was left to the free market.
Smuggling salt used to be a capital offense in China, and yet people still did it for the profit.
So just imagine—any merchant starting near the Riverlands or Crownlands would definitely be tempted by the salt trade.
"If they want to trade salt…" Ian's thoughts turned to the Westeros map he knew like the back of his hand.
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