“Very true,” Kristoffer replied portentously, as if they were discussing a matter of grand political or philosophical importance here, and not a sporting competition. “After all, the last thing Britain needs to look like on the world stage is a limp-wristed milksop of a nation, bowing to all this -” he waved his hand in a careless gesture (and earned a dirty look from a passing stranger; possibly he was talking too loudly) - “suffrage and lunacy.” Progressiveness, pah! Britain’s empire was already on the verge of failing - the last thing they needed was some third-world states getting to gloat if the national team of the most powerful country in the world lost on home soil. “Imagine what the world will think of us if Britain can’t even cobble together fourteen respected men!”
Honestly, this might be a sign he ought to go into International Magical Cooperation someday! Wouldn’t he just be the best sort of ambassador? He understood the world for what it was (full of fools and barbarians).
Honestly, this might be a sign he ought to go into International Magical Cooperation someday! Wouldn’t he just be the best sort of ambassador? He understood the world for what it was (full of fools and barbarians).
