The beasts, eyes faintly shining like blue chips of ice to reflect their superior night vision, respond to your proclamation by cheering and applauding as the inner circle of torchbearing beasts, in unison, toss their sizable firestarters onto the pile. The flame catches quickly, aided by the addition of the airship fuel, and soon enough you can hear the hearty crackling of the flame along with the scent of cheap fabrics burning as the pyre bathes the area in a harsh, orange glow. Gazing upon it with satisfaction and a nice deep breath or two, you turn back towards the wet-eyed King, who doesn’t even realize you’d moved over towards him until your arm throws itself around his shoulder, breaking his stupor and replacing it with fresh fear.