Just tell her the characteristics, and she can give me leads on anyone who enters this area?!
Damn!
Isn't this exactly the kind of network I wanted? Why the hell should I care about optional quests now?!
Originally, Ian had only a rough idea about how to hunt at the Crossroads Inn, with many specifics still unresolved.
For example: How to find reliable mercenaries? How to ensure their secrecy? How to explain to them why he was capturing people here?
Or, when they encountered someone with suspicious gear, how to confirm whether they were a player?
Most importantly, when targeting a suspected player, how to avoid alerting other players? And how to prevent their fight from being witnessed by locals, which could spread rumors and scare off their prey?
Ian hadn't figured out these details yet—he'd planned to think them through later.
But now, an ultimate tool had practically fallen into his lap? Ian stared at Martha, making her squirm under his gaze.
"Ser Lucian? About my proposal...?"
"Oh, Martha, my friend," Ian chuckled and shook his head. "I think you can help me with something far more significant than just gathering leads."
"Something... more significant?" Martha was puzzled.
Of course, something more significant. You know the local mercenaries—you can recruit a team of skilled fighters for me.
You have your own intelligence network—you can monitor the entire area and pinpoint every suspicious stranger who checks in or even just passes by.
You're the innkeeper—you can slip something into their food and knock out unsuspecting players without raising alarms.
You're a damn treasure!
"Absolutely, something more significant." Ian pushed the gold dragons on the table toward Martha, but just as she reached for them, he covered them with his hand.
"You just said you could give me leads on anyone who enters this area. How much of that was exaggeration?"
"Exaggeration? You think I'm lying? Oh no, ser, I swear I'm telling the truth!"
"How would you do it?"
"I know a man—'Black Hawk' Morgan. He leads a mercenary company. From Harrenhal to the Thousand Islands Crossing, every mercenary and rogue along the northeastern shore of the Gods Eye answers to him. If you want to track someone who's entered this area, he's the one to ask—he'll know for sure."
'Black Hawk' Morgan? Ian frowned. That's the second one!
First, the so-called Ghosts of Whitewalls—according to Martha, this bandit gang operated near Whitewalls, pillaging and committing all manner of crimes, prompting the local landed knights to unite against them.
But the knights, fearing they lacked enough men, had her recruit passing foreign knights to help. Clearly, this was a bandit group with considerable strength—yet it never appeared in the original story.
And now, here was another figure with significant influence along the northern shore of the Gods Eye—a mercenary leader absent from the books.
This was highly unusual.
With barely over a year left before the outbreak of the War of the Five Kings, such organized bandit groups and formidable mercenary leaders should have emerged during the conflict.
Yet they were nowhere to be found in the original story!
"Tell me about this... Black Hawk."
"What would you like to know?"
"Everything."
"I don't actually know much about him," Martha admitted awkwardly. "He arrived here seven years ago. After a drunken brawl, he killed the twin brothers who used to lead the local mercenaries—single-handedly against the two of them. That's how he made his name and took over."
"That's it?"
"That's all, ser. Why would I hide anything from you?"
"And what's your relationship with him?"
"Just business. He uses my inn as a base for his mercenaries, and I provide them with food and drink below cost. In return, they protect my inn from bandit raids."
Your inn still got sacked eventually, Ian thought wryly.
During the War of the Five Kings, Lord Tywin Lannister himself marched through here with an army of twenty thousand, turning this inn into his command post. He hanged you as punishment for standing by when Catelyn Stark abducted Tyrion.
Even if your 'Black Hawk' were the gods' own champion, he wouldn't have stood a chance against that.
Come to think of it, maybe the reason this guy never appeared in the books was that Tywin hanged him too—or maybe he fled preemptively, fearing Lannister retribution for his inaction during Tyrion's abduction?
If so, his absence from the original story makes sense. Tywin wouldn't have bothered mentioning some random mercenary he executed or scared off.
Wait—though insignificant to Tywin, this Black Hawk would still be a force to reckon with for local knights and the Whitewalls bandits. So why would Ser Wylde insist on recruiting foreign knights instead of hiring the mercenary leader?
Couldn't afford him?
Or... was the bandit gang actually Black Hawk's doing? After all, mercenaries need bandits around to justify their employment—otherwise, with no war, how would they make a living?
If that were the case, both mysteries would be explained:
First, after Black Hawk was hanged (or fled), his mercenary company and the Ghosts of Whitewalls vanished from the story.
Second, since most local mercenaries were tied to Black Hawk, Ser Wylde had to specify 'foreign knights' to avoid leaks.
But then, what role did Martha play in all this? She collaborated with Black Hawk while also helping Ser Wylde recruit men—and neither side suspected her?
How the hell was that possible?!
"Ser Lucian?" Martha called out nervously, sweat beading on her forehead as Ian remained silent.
Snapping out of his thoughts, Ian chuckled dismissively. Why overthink it? As long as Black Hawk's mercenaries and intelligence network could serve him, their secrets didn't matter.
"Where can I find this Black Hawk?" he asked.
"Morgan is right here in my inn—he arrived this afternoon."
So that's why she said she could get me answers by noon tomorrow? "Can you convince him to work for me?"
"Well..." Martha hesitated. "That might be difficult. He's a proud man. We can ask for his help, but to make him..."
"Look at this first." Ian cut her off, slowly lifting his hand from the gold dragons. "Look at these coins. I'm guessing you've never seen so much money all at once?"
"No, never." Martha's gaze locked onto the gleaming gold like iron to a magnet.
Of course she hadn't. Though the Crossroads Inn sat on a major trade route, in this era of limited travel, noble guests were rare.
Most patrons were either penniless mercenaries or stingy traveling merchants—the former spent freely but had no coin, while the latter had coin but spent grudgingly.
Over time, the prettier girls left for King's Landing to seek fortunes, leaving only the dregs behind—and business had only worsened.
What, regular profits? In these times, how much could food and drink alone earn? After taxes to the local lord and feeding freeloading mercenaries, breaking even was an achievement.
(End of Chapter)