Witches: Starting as a Lord Marrying a Wife

Princess Crystal Song had enjoyed a rare half-month of relative peace.

Despite the harsh conditions and biting cold of the refugee camp, having a safe place to hide after months of fleeing was enough for her.

She had hoped to spend the rest of the winter in this fragile tranquility.

But three days ago, she noticed a shift in the camp's atmosphere.

More refugees were arriving from all directions, disrupting the fragile order that had been established. Tensions rose, and conflicts began to flare among the refugees.

To the average observer, it seemed like minor disputes among desperate people.

But to Princess Crystal Song, the pattern was clear—these refugees were deliberately driven toward Frostwolf Ridge.

The earlier infiltration of wandering knights and mercenaries, along with their assassination attempt on the Frostwolf Duke, only reinforced her suspicions.

Someone was targeting Frostwolf Ridge, and the camp was now crawling with infiltrators.

With more refugees pouring in every day, the situation was a powder keg waiting to explode.

"It seems the Northern Territories are no better off than the Crystal Song Kingdom," she said with a complicated expression.

Once ruled by the Frostwolf family, the North had fallen into disarray. Even Frostwolf Ridge, the family's last bastion, was under siege.

Knight Roman, though not as perceptive as the princess, also sensed the growing tension in the camp.

One night, as Crystal Song Princess lay down to rest, the camp was suddenly filled with chaotic noise.

"Roman, what's going on?" she asked, sitting upright.

Roman's gaze shifted to the distance, where flames lit up the night sky.

"There are wandering knights slaughtering refugees," he said grimly. "Several of them are formal knights—this is a premeditated massacre."

"Slaughtering refugees?"

Her earlier suspicions crystallized. These mercenaries were here for Frostwolf Ridge, and the refugees were merely pawns in their plan to sow chaos.

If the mercenaries succeeded, it wouldn't matter what happened to Frostwolf Ridge—the refugees wouldn't survive the winter.

"Roman, we must act," the princess said firmly.

Roman hesitated. Taking action would expose her location, and in doing so, jeopardize everything they'd fought to protect.

But Crystal Song Princess remained resolute.

"It's time to repay the Frostwolf Duke's kindness. Besides, many of these refugees are also my people," she said, her voice steady.

After months of hiding, she had found a place that offered her a sliver of stability. She couldn't stand idly by and watch it fall apart.

Roman nodded, his figure vanishing into the shadows. A dagger glinted coldly in his hand as he disappeared into the chaos.

---

In the camp, mercenaries rampaged through the refugees, killing indiscriminately and driving survivors toward Frostwolf Ridge to breach its defenses.

"Damn it! Fight back!"

"The duke gave us shelter and food. We can't let him down. Drive them out!" shouted members of the militia.

Though poorly armed and untrained, the militia organized a desperate resistance.

Yet the difference in strength was stark. One by one, the militia fell in pools of blood, yet none of them retreated.

When Roman arrived, he saw a scene of utter carnage. Despite knowing they were outmatched, the militia fought on with grim determination.

"If we lose Frostwolf Ridge's protection, we'll die anyway. So why not fight for it and make them pay?" one militia member shouted.

"I'd rather die fighting than starve. For the duke, for our families—charge!"

A mercenary captain sneered. "Want to die? Let me help you."

With a swing of his knightly sword, he cleaved through the militia with ease. As a formal knight, the poorly trained militia posed no threat to him.

But just as he swung again, his sword was parried.

A tremendous force sent his weapon flying, forcing him to stagger backward.

"Impossible! You're stronger than Tier 1!"

The captain's face twisted in disbelief.

He never expected a knight with strength surpassing Tier 1 to be hiding among the refugees.

Realizing the danger, his first instinct was to flee. Though both were formal knights, he didn't want to risk his life in a duel.

But before he could escape, Roman closed the gap, and the two clashed furiously. The mercenary was quickly overwhelmed.

Though Roman's usual strength made such a fight trivial, he was weakened from weeks of surviving on meager black bread. Still, he seized an opportunity and slit the mercenary's throat.

"Kill him!"

Two more mercenary captains rushed at Roman.

Though Roman held his ground, he couldn't overpower both at once, leaving him unable to stop the mercenaries still slaughtering refugees.

---

Thud, thud, thud—

The sound of galloping horses echoed through the night.

The Grey Wolf Knight charged into the fray atop his warhorse. Leaping from the saddle, he joined the battle without hesitation.

David followed closely, observing the battlefield. His eyes quickly locked onto Roman.

In a flash, David appeared beside one of the mercenary captains. With a swift strike, he decapitated the man.

The remaining mercenary turned to react but barely had time to register the threat before Roman's dagger found his throat.

Before David could catch his breath, multiple figures surged toward him. Each radiated a menacing aura.

Clearly, the mercenaries' actions had all been a ruse. Their true goal was to assassinate the

Frostwolf Duke, and now that he had revealed himself, the assassins wasted no time unleashing their deadly intent.