Henriad (History Plays, Book 5)

3: two mighty monarchies

Kate

"Our opponents are the Bards, the scrappiest, worst managed team in the league that somehow made it to playoffs even without a full roster," I say, standing in front of my powerpoint presentation. I stand in our locker room, my team spread out around me on various furniture items, all in sweats and looking rather bored with all this.
"You could have said all of this without a powerpoint," Alice, my fellow center and best friend, raises her hand.
"We need the visual aid, moving on---"
"It's easier to let her finish," Coach Fletcher says, kind of tiredly.
"So, let me introduce you to our Bards. First and foremost there's their Captain, Harry, very interesting person," I say, changing the slide to show a picture of the young man. He's got curly, copper brown hair, and in the photo I have he's wearing mirrored sunglasses and is flipping off the photographer as he walks out of a daycare carrying a three or four year old child. The little child has dark black hair, and clings to Harry's neck with obvious delight. He smiles a little at the cameras. My research told me the little boy is an Edmund Skander Lancaster, the youngest of the Lancaster siblings; he was removed from his biological mother in a heated custody battle and our Harry Lancaster has custody, despite only being nineteen himself. In the photo he looks serious, if tired, wearing a black leather jacket and black turtle neck, designer of course. But his mouth looks accustomed to unsmiling and he balances the little boy in his arms with a practiced ease.
"You took pictures of him?" Alice, hand still up.
"No, I found all of these on the internet, moving on."

Harry

"Kate has been Captain of the team for two years," I flip to the next slide which is a photo of her, smiling as she holds up last year's trophy, next to a photo of her on a boat on a family vacation. She has long dark brown hair that hangs well past her shoulders, which are broad. Muscles bulge past the soft blue swim cover up, and her smile, though bright, is calculating. Her eyes on her driver's license are listed as green but they look a pale, mossy green to me. In neither photo does she wear any make up, though I found a few online where she did. In these though her eyes are almost hidden behind thick cheeks and hooded lids, bright thick lips that look used to smiling.
"Where did you get these pictures?" Thomas asks not raising his hand.
"They're on the internet, calm down—Kate is a center, like me. She's one of the leagues top scorers, five feet eleven inches, and she's left handed which tends to throw off goalies, she's been playing since she was five years old, highly dedicated and she got a silver medal at the last Olympic games," I say, flipping to a photo of her holding the medal up. Her hair is in a high pony tail in a practical band, and she grins as she holds up the medal, clearly happy but also being a good sport for the photographers.
"How many pictures do you have of her?" Jon asks.
"I'm ignoring you because you're my brother---there weren't many news articles about her other than relating to hockey, she's got two Junior Olympics under her belt, and she was on the Olympic team at the last games, safe to say she can out skate anyone in this room."

Kate

"Harry, six foot three, the oldest Lancaster sibling. He consistently scores well despite often missing games or being benched. Three years ago, he suffered an injury during a game," I flip to a photo showing Harry's right side, which he's partly covering as he avoids photographers. His right cheek is sunken clearly away with a web of scars on poorly healed skin, partly obscured by his ever present glasses. "During a home game his stick broke and the shards got lodged in his cheek, and then a fight during the game caused them to be driven deeper. No public information about the extent of his injuries, but he was hospitalized and the scarring is significant. Interestingly enough he's never sought plastic surgery to improve his scars, however since the accident he's never been seen publicly without the mirrored glasses. He only takes them off for games we can only assume they hide more scarring."
"Why is this significant?" Arc, our goalie, sighs, as she sits upside down on a bean bag.
"Because I put it in your presentation," I growl. I would be lying if I didn't say I'm relishing the opportunity to go head to head with a man who was stubborn enough to keep skating with shards of wood stuck in his face. That's a level of hardcore I can appreciate, even if he is my opponent. "Don't let his meager record fool you. Harry Lancaster trained with the legendary Richard Bordeaux." I flip to another slide showing Bordeaux and Harry exiting an ice rink, he's got a hand in front of the boy's face clearly trying to shield him from the photographers. It's a later photo and Bordeaux looks ill. They are both sweaty and flushed as they walk out of a public rink. Another one of the Lancaster boys, I can't tell which, is with them, Richard balances the littler boy in his arms, and the child hides his face in the man's coat obediently.
"Isn't that the guy who disappeared?" Isabel asks.
"He is, correct. Bordeaux was diagnosed with schizophrenia, which disqualified him from any drafts, if he hadn't been ill it's undoubted he would have been picked up by a major league team," I say, flipping to another slide this one is Harry's official school photo of him in his hockey gear, along with his stats. Harry looks haughty, annoyed about being photographed, staring forward with piercing yellow eyes. This is probably his last official picture, it's before the accident and his face is whole, but his expression is bored and arrogant, like he despises the process.
"Bordeaux presumably taught Harry Lancaster everything he knew, because Harry shoots exactly like him, which is to say if he's in sight of the goal that puck is going in. He's incredibly precise, and his ice time is the only thing keeping him from being top of our league."