Game of Thrones: Battle Royale Game

c9: Hunting Plan

But now that Ian had seen through Gou's conspiracy, this insight had instantly become his strongest card a hidden blade others didn't know existed.

With that understanding, his next move became crystal clear: he would alter his initial identity traits, then lie in wait at key rendezvous points locations that were likely chosen by allied players as meeting places before the game began.

Currently, Ian was near Harrenhal, the burned and cursed stronghold by the Gods Eye lake. Given his position, the nearest likely meetup point was undoubtedly the Inn at the Crossroads a neutral nexus located precisely where the Kingsroad (north-south) intersects with the River Road and the Valley Road (east-west).

The inn sat at the cultural and strategic crossroads of the North, the Vale, the Riverlands, and the Crownlands a place frequented by everyone from Edmure Tully's bannermen to Arryn knights and northern traders. Historically, it had been the setting for key turning points in Westeros: Catelyn Stark captured Tyrion Lannister here, and later, Sandor Clegane clashed with Arya and the Brotherhood Without Banners in the nearby woods.

Given its accessibility and symbolic neutrality, Ian was certain many players would pass through either to rendezvous with allies or simply as part of their travels.

The question now was twofold:

1. How could he convincingly disguise himself?

2. Once disguised, how could he successfully hunt down and defeat other players?

Neither problem was simple.

First, changing his initial identifying features was easier said than done. The equipment he wore a half-hand sword, a chain hauberk, gorget, and riding horse wasn't cosmetic fluff. It was the core reason he'd chosen to start as a hedge knight. Every piece had been carefully selected for early survival and skirmish power.

With only 200 silver stags to his name (barely enough to stay at a decent inn for a fortnight), buying new gear was out of the question. And trading down to lower-quality armor would weaken his combat strength drastically.

If he encountered another player and wanted to either ambush or deceive them, he'd risk being outmatched the moment things turned hostile.

Unlike Ian—whose past life was spent as a civil servant, and whose fighting ability hinged entirely on system stats and bonuses many of the players who joined the Hundred Player Game were former martial artists, reenactors, or cold weapon specialists. Some had trained in HEMA (Historical European Martial Arts), others in kendo or spear fighting.

They had real-world combat experience that translated into reflexes, muscle memory, and brutal efficiency. For such players, raw stats were only part of the picture.

Unless Ian encountered someone with average stats below 5 and no combat experience, the odds of an even fight were slim.

"A Traveling Merchant…" Ian suddenly muttered.

He immediately saw the logic.

If a traveling merchant had entered the game—even if they had the soul of Gregor Clegane or Arthur Dayne, they would be useless in battle. Merchants in Westeros weren't trained fighters. Even if someone like Ser Brienne or Oberyn Martell had reincarnated into a merchant's body, they'd be limited by that form's physical stats and equipment.

It would be like Arya Stark trying to stab the Hound before completing her training with the Faceless Men. Her tiny blade, Needle, couldn't penetrate his armor even if she struck true.

So could Ian realistically target traveling merchants?

The idea snowballed in his mind.

Firstly, traveling merchant was a popular starter class,its perks of economic advantage, mobile caravans, and extensive trading contacts made it appealing to system-savvy players.

Secondly, under the pressure of the First Blood mission, traveling merchants would likely avoid alliance rendezvous points out of fear. With low combat capability and no guarantee of safety, trusting an allied player might be suicide.

Unless they hired mercenaries, which ironically would mean venturing into exactly the kind of taverns and outlaw camps where other, more dangerous players were likely lurking.

And hiring mercenaries would require time, money, and risk—none of which traveling merchants had in abundance at the start.

So Ian realized: traveling merchants would be isolated, vulnerable, and on the move perfect prey.

But there was a snag: if they weren't going to their alliance meeting points, how could he track them down?

"No," Ian shook his head, "there's still a trail."

The system had limited early resource access. Without kill rewards, traveling merchants would have only one way to earn points: completing their main mission.

So the real question was: what is the main mission assigned to traveling merchants?

If he could figure that out where merchants had to go, what routes they'd need to take, or what specific items or contacts they had to find he could predict their movements like a tracker following hoofprints across the Blackwater Rush.

Ian might not be able to guess what the main missions of other professions were designed to be, but when it came to traveling merchants, the logic was clearer. No matter how the system had designed their storylines, their objectives could only revolve around commerce and profit.

And traveling merchants had one massive natural advantage at the start: unlike mercenary knights, who entered the world with nothing but steel and horses, merchants began with a full 100 gold dragons a small fortune in Westeros.

For Ian, a mission like "earn 1,000 gold dragons" would be nearly unreachable fantasy, but for a shrewd merchant? With planning and a bit of luck, it was entirely feasible.

Thus, it stood to reason that most of those players would quickly mobilize after spawning, choosing to begin trading across the region rather than risk alliances they couldn't trust.

And where better to run a business than the Riverlands, where Ian now stood?

The Riverlands were geographically central, bordered by the North, the Westerlands, the Vale, and the Reach. More importantly, this wasn't the era of chaos that followed the War of the Five Kings. With House Tully still ruling from Riverrun, and no war breaking out yet between the major houses, this was as peaceful as Westeros ever got.

Public order was relatively stable. Petty bandits and robber knights were rare, and Tully bannermen like House Vance of Wayfarer's Rest or House Piper of Pinkmaiden kept trade routes secure. For a merchant player looking for safe margins, this was prime territory.

> "So the next question," Ian thought, "is what commodity would they choose to trade?"

Northern fur? That seemed like a solid option. Traders could buy furs cheaply from poor northern villages—maybe White Harbor or even smallholdings along the Barrowlands and resell them in southern markets where noble ladies and merchant princes prized them for winter cloaks.

The markup could easily be double or triple, especially if the merchant avoided customs tariffs through smuggling or bribery.

But the issue wasn't profit—it was time.

Westeros was vast. Even with good horses and favorable weather, the journey from the North to the Reach or Dorne could take two full moons, more if roads were muddy or rivers flooded. And for players under pressure from the game's assassination mechanics, who might be hunted after just two months without scoring points, such a long trade route might be suicide.

> "Fur's a good idea on paper," Ian muttered, "but too slow to execute."

What about iron ore from the Westerlands?

That had potential. The ore-rich mines of Lannisport and Castamere—the latter long abandoned by the Reynes after Tywin's infamous purge were legendary. Transporting ore from there to Riverrun or even Highgarden was faster less than a third of the fur route.

But Ian quickly saw the flaw: the system backpack had a limit of just one cubic decimeter barely enough space to hold a waterskin and a dagger, let alone heavy raw ore. Without that, ore would have to be moved by mules or carts, and iron was heavy, low in volume profit, and hard to sell without connections.

Moreover, iron mining rights were tightly held by lords. In Westeros's feudal structure, resources like iron ore were essentially lord-controlled commodities, not unlike the royal monopolies that existed in the history of the Great Celestial Dynasty of Ian's past life.

Then it hit him.

"Government-owned? Wait… salt!"

Ian's eyes lit up.

In ancient China, salt and iron were state-run resources guarded and taxed to fill imperial coffers. Smuggling or private trade in those goods was punishable by death, and yet people still risked everything for the massive profits.

In Westeros, however, such centralized monopolies didn't exist.

The Seven Kingdoms were governed by a patchwork of noble houses, each with their own laws and customs. The Crown had little authority over what House Greyjoy, House Martell, or even House Hightower allowed in their territories.

This decentralization meant that salt production particularly along the Saltpans, Seagard, and Maidenpool was not strictly controlled, and could be freely traded by independent merchants.

And salt was indispensable in Westeros. It preserved food in an age without refrigeration, it was used in curing meats for long winters, and it had religious and symbolic significance in both Old Gods and Faith of the Seven rituals.

> "Who could resist the salt trade?" Ian thought. "It's high-demand, locally sourced, and legally gray enough to dodge notice."

Salt could be mined, boiled, or evaporated along the coasts and then shipped inland to Winterfell, the Eyrie, or even Oldtown for massive returns.

Among all merchant players starting near the Riverlands, salt would be the most tempting trade. High volume, decent margins, and short routes.

Ian flipped open the mental map of Westeros he'd memorized—locations, terrain, roads, rivers. He marked places like:

Saltpans: A minor port town, devastated in canon by the raiders of the Brave Companions, but still functioning at this point in time.

Maidenpool: On the Bay of Crabs, controlled by House Mooton, known for fish and salt production.

Darry and Seagard: Inland centers where salt would fetch a good price from minor lords and household knights preparing for winter.

"If they're trading salt," Ian grinned, "I can predict where they'll be."

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