Trinity of Magic

Book 5: Chapter 79: Marriage Talks

Zeke, usually confident in his poker face, found it severely lacking this time. His jaw dropped, eyes wide with shock. For a long moment, all he could do was gape at the man before him, who still looked as if he’d made a great sacrifice.

Marriage? To Snow?

Seeing his unexpected reaction, Winter tilted his head. “That is still your custom, is it not?”

“What?” Zeke asked, even more confused.

"It’s been many centuries since I last had contact with the human realm," Winter admitted. "But I clearly remember it was customary to choose a single companion and bond with them for life. Has that changed?"

Zeke smiled bitterly, reminded once again of the Progenitor’s vast lifespan. Even something as deeply rooted in human society as marriage might seem like a passing fad to him. “No, you are right, we are still doing that.”

Winter nodded, satisfied. “I thought as much. So, why are you so shocked? Could it be that you do not want to marry my daughter?” His expression grew serious, and the question sounded more like an accusation than a genuine inquiry.

Zeke was momentarily stunned by the direct question. Did he want to marry Snow? The truth was, he had never even considered it. It wasn’t about whether he liked her—the vast age difference had simply kept him from seeing her that way. Now that she appeared fully grown, that might change, but he hadn’t spent enough time with her for any such feelings to develop.

“Isn’t Snow… a bit young for that?” he asked.

“…She was just a child until recently,” Zeke said, aiming to clarify his meaning.

Winter clicked his tongue, looking displeased. “Humans... always so fixated on appearances, blind to the deeper truth.”

“What truth?” Zeke asked, genuinely surprised.

Winter glanced at him as if the answer was obvious. “Tell me… how long did it take for my little girl to turn from what you call a child into an adult in her prime?”

Zeke thought for a moment. When he had last seen her before going into seclusion, she had still looked like a child. But around 90 days later, she was already fully grown. The answer must lie somewhere in between.

“…Not very long,” Zeke said. He could have given a more accurate estimate, but the Progenitor wasn’t asking because he wanted to know the exact number of days. This was clearly a leading question that was building up to something larger.

"She transformed in just a few days," Winter said, a hint of pride in his voice. But his expression quickly returned to its usual blankness as he continued, "Considering that, why do you think she remained in that form, even though she could have matured at any time?"

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Zeke was momentarily shocked by this revelation. However, the answer still came to him almost immediately. There was only a single reason why Snow would have remained as a child even though she could have grown up at any moment. “Because you chose not to let her grow up…” he muttered.

"Correct," Winter replied. "Unlike my other children, there was no need for her to rush down the path of strength. I chose to let her mature naturally, without using any breathing techniques—only by passively absorbing natural mana. At that rate, it would have taken her several more decades to reach full maturity.”

A strange thought struck Zeke then. With a slight tremble in his voice, he asked the question burning in his mind: “Then… how old is Snow?”

Winter tilted his head as if trying to remember something. “Around… three decades? I didn’t pay much attention to it, since, unlike my other children, her lifespan is limitless anyway.”

“What?!” Zeke blurted out, unable to help himself. This couldn’t be! Hadn’t she referred to Frost and Polaris as elder siblings? Wouldn’t that make her the oldest by far?

Thankfully, Winter seemed to realize where his confusion stemmed from and quickly explained, “I raised her alone during infancy, away from the rest of the tribe. By the time I introduced her as my daughter, her siblings were already fully grown.”

Zeke nodded, though he still didn’t understand one thing. “Why did you raise her that way?”

Winter’s expression flickered for a moment. “Childhood... is a very precious time,” he said at last. “But it’s also a luxury that most of my kind cannot afford. With our lifespans so tied to strength, every moment spent indulging in such things is something we regret later.” His gaze shifted to Zeke. “Isn’t it the same for you Mages?”

After thinking for a moment, Zeke couldn’t help but agree.

When reaching the age of awakening, any child with decent potential would focus solely on advancing as quickly as possible. While the circumstances weren’t exactly the same, the outcome was still similar. Thankfully, human children couldn’t form a Core until a certain age, or else a situation like the one with the Chimeroi might be all too common.

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A shudder ran through him at the thought of infants, unable to even walk, being forced to cultivate their Core and learn complicated magic formulas to gain a slight edge. From everything he knew about the great Mage families, such a scene would become commonplace if it were possible.

No wonder Winter had wanted a different path for his precious daughter. Still, Zeke thought the man had gone a bit overboard. Thirty years in a child's body seemed excessive. But then again, it wasn’t as if she were losing out on anything—she’d likely live for centuries. After all, one could never have too many positive childhood memories…

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Winter’s voice brought him out of his musings. “Do you want to marry my daughter or not?”

Zeke, realizing he couldn’t avoid the topic forever, decided to speak honestly. “I’ve never thought about Snow in that way,” he admitted. “I’ve always seen her as a younger sister, nothing else.”

“Hmmm,” Winter murmured, his tone thoughtful.

Zeke couldn’t tell exactly what he was contemplating, but he didn’t want to leave the decision in the Progenitor’s hands. He quickly spoke up again. “What about Snow? Does she even want to marry me? If you understand human customs, then you should know that marriage is only between two people who both agree to it.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Winter stated confidently, roused from his thoughts. “She has personally told me that she likes you.”

Zeke wanted to facepalm. Liked him? Of course, she liked him, and he liked her too, but was that enough for marriage? If it were, wouldn’t he have to marry a dozen other people before her? He felt there should be more to a lifelong commitment than just that.

It was maddening.

Winter’s thoughts were usually deep and insightful, but at times, he seemed oddly naive and simple-minded. Was it a cultural difference? Perhaps. Maybe Zeke should approach the matter from a different angle instead of dwelling on it.

“I can’t stay here,” Zeke said. “I still have a lot of unfinished business back at home.”

“That’s fine,” Winter replied without hesitation.

Zeke blinked, unable to process what he had just heard. Winter… agreed? He would just let him go? Zeke hadn’t even mentioned how long he would be gone, yet the man had agreed so easily. What if he didn’t return for years? What kind of marriage would that be?

“Then what about…?”

“No problem.”

“And what if…?”

“As you wish.”

“Then…?”

“Yes.”

Zeke was even more bewildered now. No matter what arguments he presented, Winter simply dismissed them. The conversation had taken an odd turn where Zeke raised his concerns, while Winter ignored everything he said.

Something didn’t feel right.

Wasn’t his marriage to Snow meant to be a reward for saving the tribe? Why did it feel more like Winter was forcing him into this arrangement, as if he were trying to offload his troublesome daughter rather than tearfully give away his precious child?

Zeke looked at Winter with a suspicious gaze. “What is going on here?”

“What?” Winter replied. “I’ve agreed to everything. What more do you want?”

“That’s just it,” Zeke said, his suspicion deepening. “Shouldn’t you try to convince me to stay, to make sure Snow has a proper partner? Instead, you’ve just agreed to everything.”

Winter fell silent for a moment, seeming unable to answer. They remained in this tense standoff for a while, until the Progenitor finally relented. With a sigh, the pressure building in the room was dispelled.

“You are correct,” he admitted. “I have indeed been a bit forceful in my approach. You have my apologies.”

Seeing the Progenitor taking a step back, Zeke also relaxed a bit. “I still don’t know why you are doing this. Snow, with her limitless potential, surely won’t lack suitors. Wouldn’t half the tribe come running if you merely announced that you were seeking a groom?”

Winter nodded, a flicker of pride in his eyes. “Certainly, who, in their right mind, wouldn’t want to marry my daughter.” The words were accompanied by a glare at Zeke.

Ouch. Why did this sound so much like a personal attack? Fortunately, Winter soon continued with his explanation.

“However, that is not what I want for my daughter. Unlike me, she shouldn't have to endure the pain of watching her partners die. I want her to be with someone who will stay by her side until the very end.” His gaze turned to Zeke. “Tell me, Dragonling, do you think someone like that is easy to find?”

Zeke understood immediately. It was because of his draconic blood. Like a Progenitor’s, his lifespan was virtually limitless. He had never considered this before, but now that Winter pointed it out, it became clear—his path would likely be the same. Even if he fell in love with a talented Mage, she would probably live no more than two centuries, while he would endure.

The realization left him with a sudden sense of loneliness. Was he destined to be alone forever or to watch everyone he loved fade away? Since becoming a Mage, the thought of his parents and sister dying long before him had always weighed on him. Now, he realized he would outlive not only his closest relatives but everyone he met.

Such an existence felt unbearably bleak.

Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind. Maybe… he should actually consider marrying Snow. Having someone to share his eternity with might not be such a bad thing. However, the thought only lasted for an instant, before he dismissed it.

Eternity?

What were the chances of him living that long? Right now, it seemed more likely he'd die in the next few years. With the Empire hunting him, any day could be his last, and he was far from strong enough to ensure his safety in such a dangerous world.

What was the point of pondering future loneliness if he couldn’t even guarantee he'd see another summer? Gradually, the confusion left Zeke’s eyes, and when his gaze met Winter’s there was no more hesitation.

“I will consider your offer,” Zeke said in a resolute voice. “However, I will not agree to such an arrangement before I am confident that I’ll be able to accompany her for all her life.”

Winter’s expression changed slightly, but he soon nodded. “That’s acceptable. There’s no point in having my daughter marry someone who could be killed at any moment. But don’t take too long—otherwise, you might miss this chance.”

Zeke waved him off. “If Snow finds someone better in the meantime, then it simply wasn’t meant to be.”

Winter nodded again, though it was clear he didn’t fully agree. His personal experiences with loss seemed to have left a deeper scar on him than he let on. But he didn’t seem inclined to argue the point.

Now that the talk of marriage had ended, an awkward silence fell over the room. Neither seemed to know how to proceed. After a moment, Zeke cleared his throat. He hadn’t forgotten why he had come to this continent in the first place, and the prisoners from the Frostscale tribe were still on his mind. Still, it felt a bit awkward to bring it up now.

“Erm... now that the reward is on hold, would it be possible to ask for something else?” Zeke asked, slightly embarrassed by his own audacity.

Winter’s eyes turned sharp in an instant. “Speak.”

Zeke composed himself. It was time to fish for as many benefits as he could.