Greetings and welcome to a new chapter of Games of Honor! This story seems to be growing quite nicely and I can't help but enjoy working in this little piece of fiction. However, the case, before we begin I would like to answer few questions I received from the previous chapter.

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Oh, those effects. No I don't think I will be adding them. Something I really enjoy about the Game of Thrones setting and atmosphere is that magic and even things like divine intervention is quite rare to see and considered as stuff of legend, so I'll probably just let things stay that way. Regarding Makoto, he as a Samurai is bound to the same code and rules any other Samurai does. As far as I know, sometimes their masters ordered them to do some immoral stuff yet remained loyal and did as they were told, so I don't consider the possibility of him as an Orochi consider a task to be beneath him. Also, Daenerys even in the show or books is very aware the reality of how ruthless the Dothraki are and how they behave, but they are still her people nonetheless. Still, the Dothraki will not be left on their own devices as long as they are in Samurai land, so them being aware of their savagery is not at miss.


The Samurai and their future allegiances will remain unanswered for the time being, same with any other faction. Still though, I would recommend not taking things like 'who will the Iron Legion fight for' as granted.

Lord Demolitions:

Thanks! And who will side with who is a mystery that will remain unsolved for the time being. ;)


Yeah, there's a serious lack of stories that involves Game of Thrones and For Honor. I mean seriously, both compliment each other pretty well! There's so much potential for interesting stories.

Well, I guess those are all the question for the moment. So enough said and please enjoy!

Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win…

-Sun Tzu

Vikings l: Beyond the Shivering Sea

"This is outrageous!" The sound of a rough voice traveled throughout the walls of the large hall, along with a fist slamming into the wooden table. Dozens of men and women could be seen surrounding it, standing on the middle of the spacious room.

The anger of a very old looking Viking could be seen by everyone present. Jarl Lofarr, one of the oldest and most respected Warlords in the entire Warborn Clan, was utterly enraged by the latest news. "How is it that the Crow Clan, one of our closest and most powerful allies was wipe out without us even realizing it?!"

"They had less food and supplies than us." One man at the other side of the table explained. "And after their failed raid at Dragonstone and the death of their Jarl, things got a lot worse for their people."

Murmurs could be heard before someone else added. "Last I heard about them, their people have been starving for months now, and those bastards of the Ironborn took the opportunity to assault them."

The old Viking growled in frustration. This unexpected turn of events will no doubt create a mayor blow to his plans and hinder the preparations for the coming Great Raid. And without the other two clans supporting them for the invasion, their chances will only continue to get slimmer. Time was running out and his people didn't had enough food to last the coming winter. Their survival was at stake and neither of the other Viking clans were smart enough to realize that none of them will survive if they don't put their petty grudges aside and join forces.

Now that the Crow Clan was no more, their only options left were the Wolf Clan and the Bear Claw Clan. But unfortunately, neither of them was more cooperative than the other.

Dragonstone was an important factor that needed to be dealt with, as it represented a key point for the coming raid. But not only did the Crow Clan failed to capture it, but also got completely annihilated by their long time rivals for the control of the Shivering Sea, the Ironborn.

Nobody could remember when did the hostilities first started, only that they hated each other's guts tremendously for what was practically generations. The Vikings and the Ironborn have been raiding settlements from each other for years with no end at sight, or at least that's what everyone else believes. Lofarr had no intentions of letting the extermination of an entire clan go unpunished.

"Prepare the ships. We will search for any survivors that the Iron-bastards may have left behind." The Warlord announced his decision with a final sigh. However, it was not without someone protesting.

"Why should we bother helping those maggots? We need to look after our own!" Someone yelled at the Jarl from the other side of the table. "Winter is coming and we still don't have enough food to feed the entire island! If we bring more people here, we are only going to end up killing each other for scraps! Just let them all die and…"

The man didn't have a moment to finish what he was saying before an axe buried itself unto the back of his skull. Blood spilled over the floor but nobody said anything to the Jarl or the Berserker retrieving the weapon from the now lifeless corpse. "Someone else?" The Warlord asked loud enough for everyone inside the hall to hear.

As he expected, no one said a thing.

Satisfied with the new found silence, the old Viking leader spoke once more. "Like he said, we are running out of food and winter is on its way. If we are to survive, then we have to find more resources, and for that we need more men."

The last couple of years have been rough for his people, but they have managed to prevail until now. With that said, the Warborn Clan alone did not have the needed man power for a mayor assault on any of the larger settlements in either Westeros or Essos. But even so, that alone was not enough to stop them. Vikings were known for their stubbornness after all.

"Our enemies have grown weaker. While they so pompously warm themselves inside their fortresses made of stone, we have grown far stronger than any of them! We have hundreds of ships at our disposal and ready to sail! We have enough weapons to slaughter them all like the pigs they are! But most importantly, we have the gods on our side!"

The power of his words seemed to lift the spirits throughout the great hall. Everyone soon began cheering at the top of their lungs, shouting battle cries into the air while smashing their weapons against their shields in unison. A great war was on the horizon and Lofarr could feel it. Either they claim victory or Valhalla, none of that mattered.

"Now everyone, I believe it is time to pay our neighbors a visit!"


It was common knowledge that their homeland was located somewhere in the Shivering Sea, but its exact location was something that no one outside of their people knew. Not unless you were a Viking.

They lived at the archipelago of Valkenheim, a set of islands located in an unknown region of the Shivering Sea. This frozen tundra was a land where each Viking clan resided in their own island.

Traveling through the sea was something where one could easily spend months surrounded by nothing but water before they can ever see land again. However, with their distance not being that far from the rest of Westeros, confrontations with their sea neighbors was inevitable.

"Someone put that fire out!" A voice could be heard screaming in distress far in the background.

Black smoke clouded the sky, making it nearly impossible for the rays of daylight to reach the landscape. It was as if the very gods had abandoned them.

The smell of saltwater and burning flesh assaulted his nostrils, along with the constant sound of fighting. He took a moment to look at the carnage that was taking place allover the large mass of boats where the fighting was taking place.

Ships were smashing against one another, either burning or with big chunks of them missing, but that did little to prevent the battle that was raging from taking place. Markvard took a deep breath, filling his lungs before blocking an incoming sword. He pushed his armored attacker back and brought his two-handed axe down, tearing open the man's guts along with his pathetic armor.

The armored man fell to the floor like a lifeless puppet whose strings have been cut. Blood poured out of his open wound and mouth, but the Raider paid it no mind and went after his next opponent. His new victim should have pay more attention to his own surroundings, as he was quickly beheaded and thrown into the water before he could even realize who killed him.

Satisfied by his own handy work, Markvard allowed a grin to adorn his face before going after two more enemies who were fighting some of his brothers. The two Ironborn were able to keep up with his brethren, but they stood no chance against a battle-hardened Raider like himself.

One of them lost his sword, along with the rest of his left arm. The other one was definitely better than the first one. The man clad in armor was able to block two of his light attacks, but ended up losing his footing due to being unable to withstand the Raider's superior strength. Markvard took the opportunity to tackle the defenseless Ironborn, taking him a fair distance before throwing him into a pit if raging fire.

The sound of agonizing screams reached his ears, and the Viking couldn't help but chuckle to himself. The thrill of battle was intoxicating his senses.

"Looks like you are enjoying yourself."

He didn't need to look to know who it was. The sound of a long spear impaling someone's face was all he needed.

"Can't say I don't." The Raider said as he chopped someone's leg off. "But you sure are having fun with that Iron-bastard."

Brenna snorted in amusement as she bashes her small round-shield into the back of someone's neck. A snap was the only thing she needed to hear to know he was nothing more than another dead man.

The Valkyrie already had her fair share of kills, but the Ironborn were numerous, and so were their ships. It was a good thing that they were quite stubborn, as having them rush at them – regardless of how many they already killed – made their task of wiping them out much easier. Confronting them directly instead of chasing their ships through the sea saved them a lot of trouble.

Tearing open the skull of one of the last remaining enemies, Markvard exhaled before retrieving his axe from the body, allowing it to join the already vast amount of corpses that were lying all over the deck. The ship was clear, but the battle was yet not over. The Ironborn may have more ships and men, but the Vikings were stubborn people.

"Everyone move!" He ordered loudly enough for everyone to hear. Raising his large weapon to the air, the Raider called for the rest of the Viking warriors before leading them to assault another enemy ship with a mighty battle cry. "Valhalla!"


Well, I guess that's about it. I'm really sorry for the shorter chapter but introducing the Vikings into the story is proving to be a bigger challenge than what I first anticipated. Not for lack of trying mind you, but their mayor involvement in the story doesn't come until much later, and certain events have still yet to happen before they can be introduced properly.

I took the chance to give the Vikings a little background as to how is their situation and how they live, along with their relationships with some of their neighbors. Also wanted to introduce a few of the Heroes we will be following in their side of story, which I knew there's still much to be explained, but that moment will come in due time.

Next chapter will feature the return of the Knights of the Iron Legion. With a Warden in charge of Castle Stone, a Lawbringer and a Conqueror deep in the North during times of war, and the Lord Commander of the Legion finding himself betrayed in King's Landing. I can only say that shit is about to hit the fan very soon.

Anyway, that's about it for now. Please let me know what you think guys in a review. I accept both constructive criticism and suggestions for things that you guys may want to see in the story. They can be taken into consideration, so please, don't be afraid to sure your ideas.

With that said, I wish you all a wonderful day!