Page 103 of The Villainess Chose Naps Over Death Flags

"That's horrible," Carol said softly.

"Yes." Caspian's expression was grim. "The creatures are in pain, driven by the corruption. Killing them is a mercy."

"And it spreads from the east?"

"The main wasteland is in the east, but the miasma enters our kingdom from the north, east, and south borders. Only the west is safe—the ocean keeps the air clean." Caspian gestured vaguely northward. "That's why the borders need constant patrols. Why I'm stationed in the north."

"The wards," Carol said, remembering fragments from Caroline's memories. "There are magical barriers?"

"Yes. Placed around the kingdom to slow the corruption's spread. The strongest wards are at the capital—mages pour their power into them constantly to keep them active. But the outer regions..." Caspian paused. "The wards are weaker here. Which means the borders are more vulnerable."

"So you're the first line of defense," Carol said.

"My family has held this responsibility for generations," Caspian confirmed. "The Vanthorns guard the northern border. Others guard the east and south."

Carol looked at him—this man who'd spent five days fighting corrupted monsters to protect people who called him The Butcher and feared him.

"That's why the Crown compensates you so well," she said. "You're not just a duke. You're protecting the entire kingdom."

"It's my duty," Caspian said simply.

"It's more than duty," Carol countered. "You could hire others to do the actual fighting. You could stay safe at the estate and just coordinate. But you go yourself. You fight alongside your men."

Caspian was quiet for a moment. "Someone has to."

"And you choose to be that someone," Carol said softly. "That's... that's actually quite admirable."

She saw the faint surprise cross his face, as if he hadn't expected the compliment.

"Most people think I'm a monster," Caspian said.

"Most people are idiots," Carol said. "You're protecting them, and they repay you with fear and terrible nicknames."

"The Butcher of the North is accurate," Caspian pointed out.

"The Protector of the North would be more appropriate," Carol said. "But I suppose that doesn't sound as dramatic."

Caspian's lips twitched. "No. Considerably less dramatic."

"The Silver Savior?" Carol suggested. "Winter's Guardian? The Pale—no, that one still sounds ominous."

"Please stop," Caspian said, but he was almost smiling now.

"The Frost Reaper is rather poetic," Carol continued. "Very atmospheric. Very 'I slay monsters in the moonlight.'"

"Caroline."

"The Northern Star? The—"

"Caroline," Caspian said again, and this time he was definitely smiling. "Stop."

Carol grinned up at him. "You're smiling. I win."

"You're ridiculous."

"I'm delightful," Carol corrected. "There's a difference."

They'd stopped walking at some point, standing in a small clearing where moonlight filtered through the trees. The lanterns cast warm light across Caspian's face, softening the sharp angles.