Game of Champions

Lucien made his way to the college to speak to Professor Watterman about Simon Lo. He walked quickly and kept his head down. It wasn't often that Lucien Blake felt ashamed anymore. He'd lost enough in this world to rid him of whatever pride and dignity he'd once had. And particularly in Ballarat. Conservative, small-minded bloody Ballarat.

He kicked a pebble with a bit of gusto as he walked just to relieve some of his frustration. It had been important, in that moment, to speak to Simon in Tagalog. He needed the lad to listen, needed him to know someone was there who understood him. In more ways than one. But speaking in a foreign tongue, particularly one of the Asiatic variety, in front of others in the town had been a bad idea. The way people looked at him, a white man in Ballarat speaking to an Asian man in anything but English. He may as well have grown an extra head.

In Singapore, it had been par for the course for all the army officers to speak more than one language. It helped in communicating with the locals. And it simply made life more interesting. In that other life of his, Lucien had learned Tagalog along with Mandarin and a smattering of other languages here and there. No one batted an eye. He'd married a Chinese woman, which wasn't at all unusual for a man in his position at that time. He and Mei Lin had spoken English and Mandarin with Li in equal measure.

But back in Ballarat, all those things were frowned upon and regarded with xenophobic vitriol. Lucien could still hear Patrick Tyneman in his head, shouting at Simon to speak English. Bloody racist bastard.

What had hurt most, though, was the way the others had looked at him. The way Danny had looked at him with that specific look of shock and surprise. Oh Lucien knew he was wont to show off a bit here and there; Lawson chided him for it all the time. This was different, though. This transported Lucien right back to being a boy in the house of a foreign woman, being picked on in school for speaking French to his mother. Being sent away by his father when the teachers in Ballarat couldn't handle him. It was always the same. Be clever, Lucien, but no, not like that. Don't be different. Don't learn things we don't like. Just stay in line.

His mind drifted to Jean for a moment, wondering what she would have done if she'd witnessed Lucien speaking Tagalog to Simon. Jean was brilliant and kind, but she had hard morals, born of the farm and the Church. She was quite judgmental, and while she wasn't overtly offended or offensive like Tyneman, she had a way of showing her disapproval through a sharp tone or a withering glare. And frankly, Lucien wanted no part of it.

If he wasn't already at the front gates of the college, Lucien would have gone right home and locked himself in his study with a brand new bottle of scotch to drown his troubles. But as it was, he had a job to do. Perhaps speaking to the professor would distract Lucien enough to brighten his mood. One could only hope.