Authors Note - I've made Klaus fourteen rather than thirteen as he would be in the books. Initially it was just a mistake, but I like having the extra year on him.

Beatrice - My love, my life. Then you became his wife.

BAUDELAIRE FORTUNE STILL RESTING IN BANK

The newspaper was flung in front of Klaus as he was scrubbing mould from the bathroom tiles with a toothbrush. While Olaf paced angrily by the bath, Klaus began to read.

The marvellous actor Count Olaf has once again been rejected in his application for receiving the Baudelaire fortune. You will remember that some months ago the celebrity wedding of Count Olaf and Violet Baudelaire, (a special edition of the article with colour photos will be available to purchase soon!) yet it is currently under legal debate as to whether the Count can receive his share of the fortune now, or if he'll have to wait for his young bride to come of age.

Then of course is the issue of the two younger Baudelaire children and whether or not it should be equally divided. It is argued that Klyde and Susie should have money set aside for them for when they come of age, also under the counts care.

A voluntary female delegate spoke to the Daily Punctilio and has stated she will fight Count Olaf getting his hands on any money left behind by the Baudelaire's and has said she is not alone in this fight. However, she refused to give any more information and dashed off in yellow taxi.

Mr Poe of Mulctuary Money Management, who has recently been appointed Vice President in Charge of Orphan Affairs, has said the money will be tucked away safely until the court case scheduled for the end of winter. No doubt this will be frustrating to the newlyweds keen to go on their honeymoon, as this case has already been postponed multiple times. However, due to the sudden rise in interest from people calling themselves volunteers, it is not going to be quite as simple as it once was.

Please turn to page 5 for an exclusive interview with a wedding guest and what she really thought of the cake!

"You must be really annoyed with Klyde and Susie." Klaus said wryly as he set down the newspaper.

"No time to joke, orphan." Olaf had moved on to inspecting the tiles on the walls, his lip curling in disdain. "That banker has put me in a very foul disposition and I wouldn't advise anything that might increase that."

Reading The Daily Punctillio often puts me in a very foul disposition. Not only does it present lies as truth, it is also sensationalist and terribly written. Not to mention in my obituary they claimed I was a criminal who never took their rubbish out of a cinema screen.

I always take my rubbish out of a cinema screen.

However, it was not the diabolical writing of The Daily Punctillio that had put Count Olaf in an awful mood, but his meeting with Mr Poe.

"Who does he think he is?" Olaf was snarling as he wiped a finger along the surface of the windowsill to check it had been cleaned. "Who does he think he is?"

While one of Klaus' biggest joys in life was answering questions, he did at least have the common sense to recognise when a question was rhetorical and stay silent.

"Once upon a time my family were the wealthiest for miles around." Olaf mused. "The most celebrated. We were invited to every party. We won awards just for being spectacular. We had so much money I never wanted for anything." His face darkened. "I don't suppose you know about poison darts, boy?"

Being a clever young man, of course Klaus knew what a poison dart was. But as he didn't know the context in which they were being talked about, he shook his head.

Olaf grunted. "Of course your parents wouldn't tell you. Far too concerned with being noble. You know it's only fair, orphan, that I have your fortune seeing as they took mine."

Klaus had been focusing very hard on removing a particularly stubborn bit of mould, but the insult against his parents made him pause.

"They would do no such thing." He said fiercely. "My parents were noble. They wouldn't steal fortunes and my father definitely wouldn't push people out of windows."

Olaf raised his eyebrow. For a moment Klaus thought he would come up with some terrible punishment for speaking out of turn. Instead, he rolled up his sleeve and showed Klaus a particularly nasty scar on his elbow.

"My elbow took the most impact from the fall." He explained nonchalantly. "Luckily I'd landed in a box of very fancy doilies, otherwise I'm sure my back would have broken."

Klaus hesitated as he looked at the silver lines curling around the joint. Something about the way it curved reminded Klaus of yet another eye. Would they ever get away from his watching gaze?

"You must have been awful even then." Klaus finished. "I'm sure my father only would have pushed you if he felt it was absolutely necessary."

Absolutely necessary is a curious expression often used when people try to excuse the horrific things they've done under the guise that it was a difficult decision. A village with a penchant for birds will say it is absolutely necessary to kill a visiting stranger in order to keep their people safe. A man newly married my ask his financial adviser wife if it was absolutely necessary to have a pre-nup that promised all his fortune to his wife (rather than equally amongst family) in the event of a surprisingly early death.

Beatrice asked me a long time ago if it were absolutely necessary for me to leave her. As we disposed of the poison darts together, I kissed her one last time and said it was.

I have regretted it ever since.

For Klaus Baudelaire, he could only hope that his noble father really had felt it was absolutely necessary to do something morally wrong. He hoped that his father had realised there was no other option.

I have not gone into the envy I feel for Bertrand Baudelaire, nevertheless I can confirm that he was an incredibly noble man in spite of the anger he held as he ran at Olaf so that they both fell out the window.

Reader, while I like to spend my time pondering things in my past and wondering if I made the right decision in going on the lam, I must return to the events in Olaf's home.

"At this court case," Olaf had changed the subject. "You will stand up before the judges and say you are happy for me to be in charge of your parents fortune. As your new father, you will tell them that I need to money to care for you all."

While it was tempting for Klaus to outright refuse, he was finding the beatings and threats tiring.

"What would be in it for me?" He asked. "And what would happen if I said no?"

Something crossed Olaf's face that could only be described as pride. Certainly the smile he gave him seemed to confirm that.

"Finally I'm seeing some of that clever personality I was promised." He crooned. "Very well, orphan. If you can play your part magnificently I'm sure I can organise a decent life for you. You want to go to school? I know a special school that are looking for brats who read too much. You'd fit in perfectly."

It felt like Klaus' heart had stopped beating. Not because he was filled with dread at the news of going to school as I was when I was offered my place, but because he was sure there had to be some sort of catch to it. Olaf would not send him to a normal school. His intuitions were correct. This was not a normal school and you would be right to vigorously feel dread.

Olaf's smirk brought Klaus out of his daydreams.

"Not a thought for your sisters." He observed softly.

Klaus flushed. "Of course I thought about them!"

It is my job to tell the story of the Baudelaire orphans. However, my research lacks any interviews with them so any thoughts or feelings they have had, I have come across in diary form. On this occasion, Klaus chose to write down the dialogue and not his personal feelings. I can only take an educated guess that Klaus had not thought about his sisters at all and was left feeling very ashamed.

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"Do you have a whisk?"

It was the fourth time Violet had asked Klaus for something an inexplicable item and he and Sunny were holding their breath with anticipation.

They were in the kitchen organising dinner for the troupe. Over the six months they'd been there, the Baudelaire children had drastically improved their cooking skills, with Sunny in particular being a real visionary in the culinary department. Her ingenious combinations of flavours had been well appreciated, and even though she still spoke mostly in jargon, she was hopeful of a book deal soon.

There was no need for a whisk in this recipe. Now was there a need for any of the other random items she had asked for. Eagerly Klaus fetched it from the drawer and beamed as she popped it into her bag.

"Partum!" Cried out Sunny.

Violet frowned down at her little sister. "What do you mean?"

"What are you making?" Klaus interrupted eagerly. "You're inventing something to get us out of here aren't you? Something to frame Count Olaf? Your inventions never fail, Violet!"

A sadness washed over Violet tinged with irritation as she moved away from her siblings and began chopping the peppers. "I don't invent any more." She said shortly. "I've grown out of it."

"Tesla!" Sunny had tottered along behind and was tugging at her skirt.

Gently, Violet batted her hand away. "Nikola Tesla is different. When I was a child I wanted to be an inventor it's true, but things change. I've grown up. You will have to too one day."

No one ever likes being told to grow up. Not only does it insinuate that you are childish, but it also refers to the ever ticking clock of your impending doom. My father once said to me that having a birthday was climbing a ladder. When you start you are pleased at your progress and cannot wait to get higher. However, you soon remember that you are afraid of heights and the ladder is wobbling precariously. You do not have the option to come back down, instead you must climb on. My father said that what comes up must come down and very often at the top of a ladder you will fall.

As Violet climbed away from them (figuratively of course, she was not squirrel), Klaus and Sunny felt like she was hopelessly out of reach.

"What can we do?" Klaus whispered hopelessly to Sunny. "Violet said the only ones who can get us out of here are ourselves. We need her help."

"Ribbon." said Sunny.

I am sure I do not need to translate for you what Sunny meant by ribbon. If you ever saw Violet tying her long hair back it meant the mechanical gears in her head were whirring away. It gave her focus and clarity.

Sunny had been drastically outgrowing her old baby clothes and all of the Baudelaire's were reduced to wearing frayed rags. Clothes for infants can sometimes be impractically adorned, but on this occasion the ribbon around the hem was very practical indeed.

I only wish I could have been there to see the toothy look of glee on Sunny Baudelaire's face as she presented Violet with a scrap of ribbon. Unfortunately during this time I was hiding in box meant for miniature giraffes made of tin and completely unaware of the plight of the Baudelaire children.

As Violet took the ribbon, Klaus saw the softest change to her face, as if she had climbed several rungs down a particularly wobbly ladder and felt safe once more. Her hands were trembling with anticipation as she looped it round her hair.

"I prefer you with your hair down."

The rasp of Count Olaf was like a scratch of a record. The ribbon fluttered down to the floor. He lounged in the doorway, arms folded as he surveyed the scene. The mischievous smile did not bring them any comfort.

"Of course." Her voice was a dull monotone as Violet turned her attention back to the washing up.

"We were worried about food hygiene." Klaus improvised hurriedly. "Violet's hair is so long and we figured you wouldn't want any in your food."

A twinkle in Olaf's shiny eyes showed he didn't believe him in the slightest. "How considerate, orphan. You have the real makings of a henchperson."

Klaus squirmed.

"Cupio?"

"My sister asks how may we help." Violet translated as she tucked her hair behind her ears.

"I have two very important guests coming round this evening." To the astonishment of the children, Olaf looked nervous. He fidgeted with his hands as if he were quite unsure what to do with himself. "Now that you orphans have finally managed to make my manor look somewhat presentable, I have invited them to dine. We will be up in my tower and under no circumstances are we to be disturbed. Violet, and only Violet, will be the one to bring up the meals." The worried face switched to a devious leer. "They want to meet my beautiful bride."

Violet had grown so used to Olaf's mocking nature, she didn't so much as flinch.

"The two of you will stay out of the way. I've not told them what I've done with the pair of you and no doubt they'll think you'd be better off dead in a ditch somewhere. If you stay out of their way, hopefully they'll forget about you."

Years later Klaus would write in his journal that he wondered if this was a kindness on Count Olaf's part; A man who, he had suspected, didn't hold a decent bone in his body. For Klaus had always seen the world in black and white. It would take even more years for him to realise things are never quite that simple.

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"What are they like?"

Violet shuddered as she put the tray on the kitchen counter. "Awful. Anyone who associates themselves with him is. They said some terrible things about the fire." She tailed off.

Seeing the tears in her eyes, Klaus decided now was not the time to ask what they had said. "I bet Olaf was his usual prancing self."

She shook her head. "Strangely, no. I've never seen him like that before. He was practically bowing down to them. He even stammered a few times. At one point they told him off and he just sat there quietly and took it."

"What did they tell him off about?"

"Something to do with a tea set." Violet yawned. "Where's Sunny?"

"The hook handed man has been teaching her to carve birds."

It was a curious feeling for the two eldest Baudelaire children. Sunny adored the hook handed man and it was clear he had taken a real shine to her too. He would sneak her sweets as she would beam up at him with adoration. And while most adults assumed Sunny was just pretending to talk, the hook handed man understood her and they would have conversations.

The Baudelaire's knew they ought to be thankful that there was this kindness in Sunny's life, one so badly marked with tragedy even though it had been so short. Yet, they couldn't bring themselves to feel too gracious towards the hook handed man. He wasn't cruel to them, but he put Olaf's orders first. An decent adult would have seen three children suffering and taken them away. The hook handed man showed no such inclination.

"I can't stay long." Violet was putting bottles of wine on the tray. "I have to get this back to them. They drink more than Olaf does."

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When Violet came down a few minutes later her face was as white as a sheet.

"They want to meet you."

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The man had a beard but no hair. The woman had hair but no beard. Aside from that they looked completely identical with beaked noses and piercing dark eyes. With their hunched shoulders and penetrating gaze, they reminded Klaus of a pair of vultures.

I can confirm that these people are the two most wicked creatures I have ever had the misfortune to share a taxi with. They unnerve me so much, I will not even write down their names.

"So this is Klaus Baudelaire." The man's voice was higher than expected.

"The second child." The woman's voice was lower than expected.

"You say he's clever?"

"For an orphan." Olaf sneered as he stood watching the scene from the window. "He'll get too big for his boots if he thinks he's being praised. He has potential."

The phrase too big for his boots come from the adventures of Tom J Ford. A man with feet so enormous every praised him. However, rumours of other men with feet big enough to rival his own, filled Tom with intense envy. He created a formula so that every time someone commented on the size of his feet, they would grow. At first he thought it was quite successful and everyone marvelled. However things quickly went downhill and soon no shoemaker stocked shoes big enough for him. He travelled the world looking for boots for his gigantic feet, sobbing as each passerby on the street marvelled at the size of his ever growing feet.

"He's on the scrawny size. How old is he?"

Olaf did some counting on his fingers. "Maybe nine?"

"I'm fourteen." Klaus interrupted. "And I am capable of answering questions myself."

The pair before him gave thin smiles that didn't quite reach their beady eyes.

"We thought Olaf made a mistake keeping you alive, but he tells us that your head is like a library. We always need more people like that in the world. Do you know who win wars, boy?"

Klaus shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "The right side?"

"That's what the history books want you to think." There was a gleam in the man with the hair but no beard's eyes. "The winning side get to write history so they always write that they were the noble and righteous ones."

"The side who really wins is the clever side." The woman with the hair continued. "The cunning side."

"The deceptive side."

"Well done, you're catching on. There is so much you could learn from us, Klaus Baudelaire. So many things we could share." She looked at him slyly. "Things about your parents perhaps?"

Klaus frowned. "What about my parents?"

If you think back to when you were a child, or if you are already a child and just think, you will probably remember that you were so pre-occupied with your own lives that you didn't think about what kind of hobbies your parents might have. When they went out for dinners you probably didn't give it a second thought. It never would have crossed your minds that your parents were being liberal with the truth and actually were off in a submarine chase.

"That thing in your pocket." It occurred to Klaus that he wasn't sure if he'd ever seen them blink. "You don't know what it is, do you? We do."

I have often wondered myself in the man with the beard but no hair and the woman with the hair but no beard had x-ray eyes. Certainly that is the thought that Klaus was trying to push out of his mind as his hand curled protectively round the small metal object in his pocket. But how else could they have known.

"Your parents kept secrets from you, boy. All sorts of secrets. Aren't you the slightest bit curious? Don't you want to know the circumstances in which they died? Who gave the orders? Who struck the match? Why it was done? If you join us, you'll learn all the secrets they kept hidden from you."

The tightening in Klaus' chest was back. It felt like the three of them were looming over him, waiting for him to die so they could feast on his flesh.

"I'll join you when pigs fly."

It is a tragic tale how that expression came to be. A young boy was taken from his parents and sent to live on a farm. The farmers were cruel and he could only find solace in the pigs who always looked happy to see him and were kind. One night he heard the farmers say that the following morning all of the boy's friends would be sent to the slaughterhouse. The boy flung himself at the farmers feet and asked what could be done. The farmer laughed and said that he would change his mind when pigs fly. The boy spent the whole night trying to teach his friends to fly over the fence, even trying to invent a pig sized catapult. However, morning came and the boy was forced to say goodbye to his friends with tears streaming down his cheeks. I have held the guilt that I could not make pigs fly ever since.

Klaus was not a cruel boy as the bald bearded farmer was, he merely meant he would only join them if something happened that defied logical explanation. In other words, he would never join them.

The pair did not look put out in the slightest. Olaf looked bored.

"Olaf has asked that Violet continue to belong to him." The woman with the hair but no beard said sweetly, as sweetly as a disturbingly low voice could be. "But he does not fight for your other sister with the same vigour. Little Sunny Baudelaire. I told your mother it was a foolish name. But your mother insisted that her little one was the light at the end of the tunnel."

Klaus wanted more than anything to believe that his parents wouldn't have been associated with these terrible people. But he just didn't know what to believe any more. He'd thought the same of Count Olaf.

"What shall we do with Little Sunny?" The woman with the hair but no beard continued slyly. "She's just a useless baby and I've never cared for infants. But my eagles do so enjoy the plump flesh of a little one."

"Sunny has very sharp teeth." Klaus said automatically.

The adults paused. Klaus licked his lips nervously, his mouth suddenly dry. "Very sharp teeth. The doctors have said it's a medical marvel. They think her adult ones could be even sharper. As a baby her teeth are already very useful, think how it could be with some training."

"Bertrand's mother had sharp teeth." The man with the beard but no hair said thoughtfully. "Do you remember? She was always breaking the padlocks on my case."

Klaus turned to Olaf, a little braver. "I don't know what you've done to make Violet so meek around you, but if anything happens to Sunny it will be like releasing a tiger from its cage."

Olaf looked oddly triumphant. "It's not what I've done." The gleam in his eyes was terrible. "It's what I do. Still, bookworm, you make a valid point. Without the biting brat I do lose my bargaining chip - particularly if these two decided to become your mentors."

"We shall." The woman with the hair but no beard interrupted. "Klaus Baudelaire, I knew you would be just as cunning as your mother. Your father would have been too noble and tried to appeal to my better side, oh please she's just an infant and all that nonsense. It's just a shame your mother had to leave my tutoring and marry him."

"The ball is in your court, Klaus Baudelaire."