If his friend expected him to rescind the idea if it was left up to fate, he would be disappointed, because no roulette wheel of destinations was about to worry him. The artifact Rupert’s wand stopped at was a knife - Aztec, maybe? - a sharp stylized dagger that, if Kristoffer had bothered to squint at the panel below it, had once been used in rituals of human sacrifice.
But he didn’t look, just smirked at Bingham. “South America it is,” Kristoffer said indolently. “I’ll have a Portkey arranged, if you’re not too chicken.” He didn’t know how long that sort of thing took, particularly for a pair of young men on a whim, but he was quite certain he could bully the request through soon enough for a trip to feel spontaneous. Gone in a day or two, off to new scenes. A different climate. Different peoples. Different women. Rainforests and stepped pyramids and that sort of thing. Hadn’t those adventurers gotten lost somewhere in South America, the sailors left for dead? Kristoffer knew very little about the continent - but what better way to find out than conquering it for themselves? “Maybe we’ll find - what’s it called, that place? With all the gold? El Dorado?”
But he didn’t look, just smirked at Bingham. “South America it is,” Kristoffer said indolently. “I’ll have a Portkey arranged, if you’re not too chicken.” He didn’t know how long that sort of thing took, particularly for a pair of young men on a whim, but he was quite certain he could bully the request through soon enough for a trip to feel spontaneous. Gone in a day or two, off to new scenes. A different climate. Different peoples. Different women. Rainforests and stepped pyramids and that sort of thing. Hadn’t those adventurers gotten lost somewhere in South America, the sailors left for dead? Kristoffer knew very little about the continent - but what better way to find out than conquering it for themselves? “Maybe we’ll find - what’s it called, that place? With all the gold? El Dorado?”
