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10 - Luther Firebringer And The Party From Hell (Luther's Interlude)
🕑 Added 2025-02-12 10:51:42 +0000 UTCLuther Firebringer was constantly assailed by incessant tufts of plume.
He was getting really sick of it.
He should have expected it coming into this party. The Azures were known for nothing if not throwing very flamboyant events and outfitting them with whatever fashion pundits decided the fabric of the season was.
Last year, it was Peluda fur and so all their parties had featured what looked like spiky, red pubic hair around their entrances, accenting the walls and even on outfits. The year before that it was dragonscale and people got creative about how to graft that onto their actual skin.
And this year, it was goose feathers which meant plume.
Lots and lots of plume.
It had attacked him almost as soon as he arrived. When he’d walked through the doorway, stepping cleanly through the forcefield that would only allow guests and staff to enter, he was greeted by a face full of goosefeathers from a woman in a large fluffy bustle who crossed his path at the wrong time.
The plume went right in his mouth and he had to splutter to spit it out. That still didn’t help get the dry taste of raw perfumed poultry off his tongue.
He just hoped none of the drone cameras whizzing about caught spitting. So freaking undignified.
But that was nothing compared to what happened when he was on his way to get a drink. Someone crossed his paths wearing wings made of plume and once again it got him in the face.
This time stray particles went up his nose and he had to fight the urge to snort and sniff long after she’d passed.
And then came the overwhelming urge to sneeze.
It wasn’t just one dainty little sneeze either. He could sense multiple violent sneezes on the horizon and it would involve lots of sniffling too, and probably snorting to get the leftover particles out.
Panic clawed his chest as he held it back. Can’t do that in front of the cameras. Apart from looking undignified, if he began snorting and sniffing like a druggie, rumors might start and that was the last thing he needed.
It might seem like an overreaction but it was true.
He was one of Earth’s most famous heroes and one ill-timed screenshot with his hand under his nose, could cause public uproar.
He might even get called into the hero's association for a random drug test, which would make the rumor mill worse whether he came out clean or not. His spotless reputation would be tainted.
And then there was his family to worry about. His grandmother would kill him if she even thought he was doing drugs. Even worse, she’d also call one of those long, boring family meetings and his older sister, Stella, would be there and she would cackle mockingly and say something like, “Glad you finally loosened up, Luthy. I’ve always thought drugs would be good for your personal development.”
He got annoyed just thinking about it. As if he would ever display a weakness like that. Luther had better self-control than anyone he knew, and was actively disgusted by people who gave in to their vices and baser urges.
His exceptional self control was also how he held the sneeze until he got to the bathroom. He first checked that there were no cameras in there. And then he let it rip, a series of successive sneezes followed by a loud snort.
Then once he was done letting it all out, he washed his hands and ensured his hair and face were still camera ready, before he stepped out.
As he walked over to grab a glass of wine, deftly avoided the plume paintings on the gazebo, and then stood near the orchids while he observed the party.
The Azures had outdone themselves this time.
Swathes of threaded gold and red silk swang around the garden seemingly suspended in air by nothing. White glass flamingos floated on artificial ponds. The garden itself was gated by perfectly manicured shrubbery with flowers of reddish pink and gold. They even got their shimmering forcefield, which was usually clear, to have a golden cast.
People milled about in their pink, red, or golden dresses most of which had blown-out skirts like they were at a prom. And they all looked silly. Luther could only imagine what their stylists were thinking and wondered if the invite mandated they show up as ridiculous and uncomfortable as humanly possible.
He might have thought it was all an elaborate joke on Vera Azure’s part, if she were smart enough to actually pull off such a thing.
“Luth!”
Speak of the devil.
He turned around to see the petite woman skittering to him. Her tight pink dress, which looked like it was made out of shiny snake skin and chain mail, clung to her thighs and practically plastered them together, restricting her movement. Behind her was a train of feathers that looked like they had been plucked from every creature of flight imaginable, with a matching feathered shawl circling her shoulders too.
She was the living embodiment of plume.
“You came!" she squealed happily in a girlish manner unbefitting of the nearly forty-year-old woman. "And in the correct dress code, thank heavens! I was so frightened you wouldn’t get my message in time informing you of the hue change.”
I’m in dress code? Luther frowned and scanned his own outfit, worried that he looked as ridiculous as the rest of them. But then he realized that she meant the colors. He was wearing a red button down shirt and rust-brown pants but that was just a coincidence that had nothing to do with any dress code. Those were simply his family colors which he usually wore to formal events.
Vera reached in for a brief impersonal hug and her perfume wafted around him making him slightly ill.
“Cousin Vera." He greeted and pulled back with a forced smile. "You look…” Stupid. “Interesting.”
“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” She turned to show off more of the train. “Can you believe that this is an authentic Maragialo? Flown right in from Silia. He had to make it last minute because my other dressmaker was murdered and you wouldn’t believe the state she left the fabric in. No other designer would touch it, and I’d spent nearly a hundred thousand credits on special Fae goose feathers already so it’s not like I could just throw it all away. So I went to my friend Maragialo and told him, ‘I will positively perish if you don’t help me.’ It took a lot of convincing, but he agreed.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Still, getting it done was a nightmare. Like I can’t even express to you how stressful it was, you had to be there.”
As stressful as foiling a demon-led bank heist? Luther wondered, amused. Or resolving a level 6 dungeon solo?
“Your forbearance is admirable,” Luther said, trying to keep the sardonic bite from his tone. "I'm glad it all worked out."
“Me too.” She beamed. Luckily Vera was largely immune to sarcasm. “This fabric in this color was also a nightmare to get because it’s super rare. Cost me nearly a million credits just to get put on the waiting list. And another million to ship it in without those space pirates getting to it. So much effort...I’m glad it didn’t go to waste. What do you think?” She turned around again to show off the full dress.
I think your husband should grow some balls and tell you to stop wasting his money on clothes. “Looks great.”
“Thank you, again. Anyway, I'm so surprised to see you here. I thought you couldn’t make it. Didn’t you say you had to deal with a terrorist attack in District 5?”
“Yeah, but I got summoned at the last minute for a dungeon in Hovelton.”
“Oh, you poor thing.” She shot him a sympathetic look. “That town always depresses me whenever Harold goes to campaign.”
Luther agreed. Everything about Hovelton was drab and grey and depressing. Arcadia was more advanced and leagues more colorful. In some cases, like at this party, too colorful.
“Yes, but they reported an unstable dungeon problem and no one in Arcadia would have been able to tackle it," he continued with a long-suffering sigh. "The Association sent me in to take care of it instead.”
Although, by the time he got there, the dungeon was pretty much on its last leg and Mad-Eye Max had killed the escaped ghoul.
Thinking about that worsened his mood.
Luther didn’t like Mad-Eye Max and he especially disliked that someone like him, who didn’t have any formal training as a [Hero] nor did he have any magic, was able to disable a level 4 unstable dungeon and kill a ghoul without much damage.
It wasn’t that he wanted Max to get damaged….much. He wasn’t that petty. It was more so what Max’s lack of damage meant for the larger society.
Max was a [Mercenary], a role that wasn’t bound by heroic codes, and was only contracted for dungeon work because they had a knack for doing just about anything to make a quick buck. [Mercenaries], like Max, were selfish, greedy, and opportunistic. The total opposite of heroic. He didn’t hold it against them. That was all they were supposed to be. That was all Max was supposed to be.
Max was not supposed to be able to take down unstable dungeons and save his drab little town from ghoul attacks. And it shocked and bothered Luther that he had. Something like that skirted too close to vigilantism for his liking.
And vigilantism like that could start to get attention.
It could encourage others to do the same.
Which, amongst other things, was totally destructive for society.
Luther clenched his jaw as he thought about what should have happened with that unstable dungeon portal.
Max should not have touched the portal no matter what. At most, he should have evacuated everyone closeby and waited for the proper authorities–meaning Luther–to show up.
He shouldn’t have been able to destroy the portal by himself. That was…unprecedented for a second-rate mercenary like him.
Max had no magic. Luther had checked when he’d been given access to Max’s private window. The man had medium physical traits, higher on the strength and dexterity component. His intelligence was at a B Rank but he’d focused nearly all of it on gun knowledge.
He was also crass, mercurial, and according to what Luther had heard, quite vulgar as well.
He was not [Hero] material. So why was he now acting like it?
It would be different if it was a one-time thing, if it was just about the dungeon. But Max had already built a somewhat modest name for himself as a young expert Dungeon Master who always ensured that everyone who entered a dungeon with him left alive, and frequently with all their limbs attached. As such, he'd been building a small cult following in underground scenes, and had other delvers scouring to be on his team.
It wasn't unusual for people to die during dungeon raids. If anything, it was probably more normal for parties of ten to reduce to parties of one before leaving a dungeon.
Yet Max had only ever lost two people to a Dungeon raid, and it was right at the beginning of his career. He reportedly never lost another, even if it meant he had to give up everything else he'd scoured from the dungeon to get people out safely.
Again, that attitude was unprecedented for a [Mercenary]. And it pissed Luther off.
He internally scoffed.
Max liked to pretend like he didn't care about fame, yet he did stuff like that, obviously for attention.There was no way he was doing it simply because he was kind. That man with the vindictive eye didn’t have a kind bone in his body.
Luther knew that for a fact, and he was rarely ever wrong about people.
Yet, despite how unpleasant the other man was, Luther didn't have any personal problems with Max.
It was just that the concept of him, a [Mercenary] who did heroic things, shouldn’t exist.
He was not a [Hero]. He should know his place.
Unlike Max, Luther was a [Hero]. One of the best actually. He did have magic and he outranked Max on the Physical level too. He also had his family bloodline.
He was a Firebringer, arguably the most powerful race of trained [Heroes] in the entire world. Even without his family’s wealth, he had enough sponsors to own one of the most expensive condos in Capital City. He was so famous that sometimes people camped outside for days just to take a picture with him.
It was annoying sometimes, but that was the type of treatment only [Heroes] of his caliber got, and frankly only they deserved it for all the sacrifices they made.
If people like Max started sprouting up seemingly doing the same things Luther was doing, (though on a much smaller, less efficient scale) the prestige of being a hero would be reduced. And without that prestige, they would lose sponsorships and funding and it would make it difficult for them to do their work. It would also be difficult to recruit more heroes.
It was bad enough that they were already facing a hero shortage. Polls showed that younger high rankers were less likely than previous generations to dream of being heroes. A bunch of them were choosing paths in entertainment instead.
If being a self-serving [Mercenary] started growing in popularity then it would make things worse. Those kids would think, "What is the point of being a hero and going to hero school, and abiding by heroic code? I can just do whatever I want anyway and save people when I feel like it and also get a bunch of sponsorship money." And just like that, the era of [Heroes] would end.
Stella always thought he was overreacting when he told her his concerns, but Luther knew everyone else was underreacting.
It was maddening that the association wasn’t considering what Max did as an active threat, and clearly didn’t see where their world may be headed if things like that continued and people took notice. Max was also a unique problem.
Unlike other stray vigilantes who had come and gone over the years, foolhardy beings that had either died in obscurity or joined the Hero Association, Max already had that cult fanbase, had at least enough skill to save some people, yet he hated [Heroes]. So he would neither be obscure enough to forget, nor would he join the Hero Association. He was a primed danger to their way of life.
And to make everything bloody worse, Luther also had to worry about Aiden Sparrowfoot, with his recovered, newly pre-awakened daughter.
I’ll have to report that last piece of news to the association, he thought. A powerful [Villain]’s pre-awakened child was certainly cause for concern.
“Wait, you resolved a dungeon in Hovelton yesterday and you stuck around this long?” His cousin’s surprised tone dragged his attention back to their conversation. “I'm shocked. Usually, you zap back to Capital City the second you’re done with your mission.”
He shrugged. “Yes, but I decided to stay a while. You know, in case more trouble arises.”
It was a lie but it sounded better than admitting that the Hero Association asked him to stand by and survey the situation at Hovelton for a little longer.
There’d been three unstable dungeons spawning there in the last year and that was highly unusual, to say the least, to have so many spawn in the same area. The Association was trying to make sure that it wasn’t linked to a larger trend they were seeing. To that end, Luther was supposed to stay in Hovelton and report whatever he witnessed.
But he hated Hovelton. So he got a hotel in Arcadia instead.
It was fine since he could easily move back and forth thanks to the teleportation orbs he bought. He hadn't mastered fire flight yet but he could also jet himself there in twenty minutes through brief spurts of pyro-velocity. Either way, he refused to get a hotel in that dingy, run down town that smelled like moth balls.
Nevertheless, Arcadia though leagues better than Hovelton, was drastically lacking in adequate entertainment. So he decided to come to his cousin’s party after all and meet some of the heroes of the town.
Or more accurately, he thought it might be good for them to meet him.
He could already see them watching him, whispering behind their hands, some in awe and jealousy and others to size him up. The last part excited him. The possibility of a fight always excited him especially if he could be televised putting someone in their place.
[Heroes] and other high rankers used to mess with him all the time, especially when he was younger, scrawnier and didn’t have a good hang of his powers yet. Every ranker at Victoire wanted to make a name for themselves, to be acknowledged as powerful, and what better way to do that than by beating up a Firebringer. Even if they got in trouble for it momentarily, ultimately it would help their reputation somewhat in the heroic circles. His older sister Stella was too much of a threat for them, but Luther was a significantly easier prey. So he’d been a frequent target of bullying throughout his Academy.
It was why he fought so hard to get stronger. And eventually, he made sure everyone who’d ever tried to humiliate him lived to regret it.
Now, very few [Heroes] were at his caliber, much less the ones at this party.
Though to be fair, he only recognized a few of them.
There was Tophat, the object summoner, showing off his new headpiece. Lucy Frank, the young arithmancy genius who could predict an opponent's next ten moves, was dancing with another woman by the pond. Both were beneath him in both strength and popularity so he didn't bother introducing himself to them.
The only other hero worth noting at this party was the one in a flower-patterned shirt and casual slacks laughing at something another guest said. Monty Ward, a B-Rank telepathic spell-caster who had saved a group of people from jumping off a building last month.
It was some kind of cult mass suicide and because of that, it had made big news across all of Orinia. Monty's name has been trending on the NET for a month and he was currently the number ten most popular hero in Orinia right now.
We’ll see how long that lasts.
A few paces away from Monty, a quiet platinum-blonde woman stood, looking bored out of her mind.
“Kids!” Vera suddenly called out and beckoned over his shoulder. “Come say hi to your uncle Luther.”
Soon, two children rushed up, one of them a girl with strawberry blonde hair in gentle curls around her face and a smile practiced to reveal a dimple on her cheek. Next to her was her shorter, pudgier brother who had similar coloring but had a square face and owly eyes behind huge glasses. He was in a suit with a tangled bowtie that Vera frowned at.
“Hi, Uncle Luther,” the girl said and it took Luther a second to recall her name.
“Veronica.” He remembered only because the name was so similar to her mother’s that it bordered on narcissism. “How nice to see you again. You look adorable.”
“Thank you,” she beamed. “I got pre-awakened last week, Uncle.”
“You did?” he smiled. “That's great. Congratulations!”
“We always knew she would.” Vera beamed as she wrapped her arm around her daughter’s shoulder. “Our Veronica has always been so smart and talented. And we’ve worked hard this year, haven’t we Vero?” Vera didn’t even wait for the girl’s nod to continue talking. “Madam Clementia is the best pre-awakening coach I’ve ever seen and she says Veronica is a talented student. She predicted that Vero would be preawakened within five months and wouldn’t you know it, yesterday a horse flung her and she preawakened just like that.”
“What a nice story,” Luther lied and then turned his attention to the bespectacled boy standing behind his sister eyeing him owlishly.
Luther couldn't for the life of him remember this one’s name.
Thankfully Vera helped him out. “Dewitt, greet your Uncle Luth.”
“Greetings, Uncle Luth,” Dewitt said and executed a random and extravagant bow. “Thank you for gracing us with your presence on this fine evening. Did you happen to see two gnomes on your way here?”
“Two…gnomes?”
“Yes. The lizard people told me they’d be here soon.”
Lizard people? What the hell was he on about?
“Dewitt.” Vera’s smile grew tight around the corners. “Remember what I told you about making polite conversation."
"I thought that's what I was doing." He sounded puzzled. "I welcomed him to the party and said 'thank you for coming'."
"Yes. But then you said something...strange. Remember you're not supposed to do that. What did we say about offering normal, publicly-necessary information?”
Dewitt opened his mouth to say something in response, then pressed his lips together. He nodded soberly, seeming disappointed he couldn’t share more.
His mother sighed. “Ignore him. It’s just Dewitt and his nonsense. He’s always had an active imagination and I think maybe he’s making the wrong friends who are encouraging that behavior.”
“He doesn’t have friends,” Veronica pointed out helpfully, and Dewitt scowled at her.
“That wasn't publicly-necessary information,” he said.
“In any case,” Vera interrupted. “We’re working on his preawakening now but it’s giving us some trouble. Dewitt’s not as naturally talented as Veronica so we don’t know if he will get there but we’re trying our best.”
Poor kid, Luther thought as Dewitt’s shoulder deflated, hurt flashing across his face before he hid it. “It’s better to let these things happen naturally. Besides, a preawakening isn’t everything. He can still be an excellent [Hero] even if he hasn’t pre-awakened.” After all, Luther had never pre-awakened and he was one of the best heroes in the district, currently number four in Orinia.
“Yes, but you know that pre-awakenings are a big deal for Victoire. It’s one of the things they look out for in their applications.”
“There are many Heroic institutions that aren’t Victoire. They make good heroes too.”
“Victoire is the best [Hero] academy in the country and that’s where the entire Firebringer clan has gone. I don’t want my children to be different."
Well, technically your children are not Firebringers. It was what he wanted to say. Though he considered her a relative, Vera was only his cousin in the sense that her husband’s brother had married a Firebringer cousin of his. It was a thin tether of a relationship but Vera insisted on acting as though her kids had Firebringer blood. For the most part they let her have her delusions.
“Is Aunt Stella coming?” Dewitt asked, hope perking up his voice. “Or Cousin Theo?”
Ah. It was clear from his enthusiasm that those two were his favorites in the family.
Luther felt less bad for the kid now.
“I wouldn't know.” The answer was most likely no. Unlike Luther, Stella and Theo probably had better things to do this evening. He wished he did too, as Vera launched into another overly detailed explanation of the making of her dress.
Meanwhile, Dewitt Azure listened to the conversation with half a mind and wondered when the gnomes would arrive. He hoped it would be soon because he was bored out of his skull.
