Davik is not a bad person.
A monstrous roar explodes outwards as the trails of fuel laid down beforehand are set alight and the fire lurches higher than the tallest tree. The flame hurtles through the forest and the wolves scream as they’re engulfed and disappear into hues of red.
No, no, Davik is not anything close to bad.
As the firestorm whips into a frenzy, loud explosions are heard from the empty fuel containers filled with explosive powder and scraps of metal left over from the hundreds of smiths in the kingdom. The shrapnel cuts down swaths of the wolves and slices clean through the trees from the force behind the explosion.
Honestly though, Davik could ask any one of his followers and they’ll claim the exact same thing.
The wolves that had been leading the initial attack leap into the river separating the army from the fire, all of the animals desperate to escape catching on fire, some getting swept away by the vicious current.
Maybe it doesn’t mean as much, since Davik is their ruler.
Most of the wolves become trapped between the choice of burning or drowning. The choice is decided for them, and as planned, the archers instantly pull back their bowstrings, aiming for the stalled wolves and firing at their leisure. The river runs red, blending with the forest fire.
Either way, the people would still say the same, despite Davik being a prince.
Above the violence and flame is a massive plume of thick smoke. It’s slowly seeping across the sky to reach the horizon, which is hazy and indistinct due to the amount of heat being let off.
Anyone could tell you that Davik isn’t a bad person.
The smoke blots out the clear blue sky with a dark and opaque grey, the only colour being a scattering of bright red embers which soon die to white and then drift down like snow.
It’s pretty simple, really.
Davik is far past being ‘bad’.
Because only a monster could think that this sky is far more beautiful.