Being a cold hearted Nevrakis.
It’s all you need to know.
Put a brave face, a stoic one, and slice through your enemies.
Kill armies and move mountains. Kill your allies, if you need, too.
Pull your sword, trust no one. Not even your family, not even yourself.
Put that sword through anyone who’ll try to tell you otherwise, who’ll tell you that you’re wrong.
War is all you know, all you’ve ever known, all you’ve been through your entire life. It all started before you were even born.
Cunning, backstabbing, resourceful, clever, self-preserving, evil… all those words have been used to describe you.
Evil?
No.
They don’t get it.
You’re just doing what’s need to be done. It’s the right thing.

The only thing that will end this war, that will kill that lightning witch, that will destroy the Iron Empire.
People stupid enough to think that alliances will work. That this could be solved in a diplomatic way, in a civilize manner… they are blind. They haven’t seen what the Iron Empire is capable of. They haven’t seen your wife die at that hand.
They think they’re being kind hearted. But they’re weak, and they’re being fool. And those fools will be the ones who’ll bring more people to die at this never-ending war.
They have no place leading this war. They’ll just stand in your way.
And if they’d get themselves killed anyway, the earlier the better, right?
This was just business. The strong survives. It’s all it needed to be.
Disconnect yourself, your emotions from the act. It was never about killing Adriana Rys, or Ewan and Daphne Thron, or Amanth Drammir, or any other ruler he had slayed. It wasn’t about them.
It was for the greater good, even if no one’d realized it.
Luther once let his emotions get the best of him, and that time he had lost his beloved wife.
After that day, he vowed, never again.
So even when his sons died at the same hand that murdered his wife, he didn’t waver. He continued fighting. This was honoring Baltair and Seoras’s death. He convinced himself.

After all that pain he endured, that reckless princess had beaten him, and he found himself lying in a jail cell, locked up.
He’d seen the way Diavolos looked at her, at the dinner-party, after coming back from that mission, and during the last fight of the war.
Where did I go wrong? He questioned himself. He didn’t quite understand, as he watched his eldest son siding with her, pinning after her.

After she had beated Azura, that lightning witch, Luther knew what he had to do. He might’ve understood.
Despite not being a good father at all, at least two of his children knew better. At least they still had a chance. Diavolos would take care of his sister, Luther was sure. Even if Diavolos denied that fact, he cared for Zenobia.
And what better chance would it give them to demonstrate their ultimate sense of loyalty, than killing him?
He’d made up his mind.

“Diavolos, come.” He ordered, early in the following morning.
“Where to, father?“ Diavolos questioned him but followed suit.
“To do something that needs to be done.” Luther talked like he always did, not
wanting to make one suspect.
Diavolos did look unconfutable. Like he wasn’t on board with him. Good. Luther thought. But Diavolos didn’t question him further. He followed until they’d
reached where Luther was taking them, where Luther knew that that girl would be.
They stepped into an almost empty throne room, hearing Kenna talking to her deceased mother.
“How touching.” Luther commented, playing along with his act.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Kenna asked, clearly disappointed to see him, but still keeping a straight face. She’d make a fine queen. And maybe a great wife for Diavolos, someday.
“I wanted to congratulate you, of course. You vanished so quickly yesterday I didn’t get a chance to pay my repects.” He continued with his plan, Diavolos eyed him, clearly suspicious. Luther had a feeling Diavolos’d make him proud.
“You want to pay respects to me? This will be new.”
“Hardly. After everything you’ve accomplished this past few years, I have a great deal of respect for you. Just as I did for your mother.” Luther says, keeping a serious face.
This is just another thing that needs to be done.
Kenna shoots a look to Diavolos, who refuses to meet her eyes. He knows something’s up. Or more accurately, he thinks he knows.
“Which is why I do regret what I’m about to do… Kenna, like I’ve said before… this is nothing personal.” He pulls out his dagger, slicing through her shoulder. He knows this won’t kill her. He doesn’t aim for the heart. He doesn’t aim for the neck. He just makes this act look convincing.
After fighting the girl for a while, she finally scowls at Diavolos. “Are you just going to stand there and let him do this? After everything we’ve been through?” She yells.
Diavolos finally meets her eyes. He looks between her and his father, weighting every action she’d done, every kind move and act she’d done for him – against a lifetime of loyalty. A loyalty Luther knew now, he didn’t deserve –
“Well?! Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help me ensure our family’s future?” Luther tries to push Diavolos over the edge. And he succeeds – the look in his son’s eyes turns certain.
Diavolos reaches for the long sword on his back, and draws it.
“Get away from her, father.”

Good. This is exactly what Luther had wanted.
When the blade slices through his stomach, and he knows he has a few seconds left, he holds Diavolos’s hands over the handle of the sword, and smiles.
“I was wondering…” He coughs blood, but he has to say it before he goes. “When you would scrounge up the guts to do what needed to be done.” He breaths out, feeling the life fading from his body. He lets out “I’m proud of you, son.” While locking his eyes with Diavolos.
He pulls out his sword, and Luther can feel himself falling, fading away…
“Thank you, father.” Luther hears in his final breath.