KLAUS

It's a cold winter day. The white flakes from the sky float gently outside the window. A gray man sits at his desk, furiously working on a page he had seen days and days before. Perfecting the equations he had worked tirelessly on nights that happened years ago. His son, meanwhile, lays beneath his desk, safely reading a book about a rabbit that wears humans' clothes and holds parties for him and his friends. The little boy laughs and his blonde curls bounce with his shoulders.

A sudden and frightening bang shatters his fantasy and he clings to his father's leg. His father smiles and swoops him from underneath the table and into his safe embrace. The young boy inhales the familiar smell of peppermint, and sobs into his shoulder.

"Pa-pa..." His cries are drowned by the drumming sounds that shake his entire body.

His father coos and rubs his head. Despite his trembling hands, he manages to calm the boy.

"It's only thunder, Klaus."

"Klaus, if I may call you that of course, I don't suppose you know much about the bank system?"

Klaus snapped his attention away from the clouded window and to the pile of books in Clara's arms. She set them onto the table releasing a cloud of dust from its aged covers. Klaus waved the dust from his face.

"I don't think this is necessary."

Clara placed her hands on her hips, "Nonsense! If Master Franz has instructed me to teach of Auchtermuchty, then I shall do exactly that. Now, let's start with the currency."

Klaus sighed and pulled a few coins out of his pocket, tossing them in her direction. She examined them and shook her head.

"These are old versions." She explained, toying with one in her hand.

Klaus picked one of them up, "Old? In what way? I used one at a bar just last month."

Clara shook her head, "Currency changes every three months, it's how we keep our prices so high. Makes trading difficult."

Klaus scratched his head and examined the coin closer. It was a hexagonal shape, with a type of plant engraved onto it. He had seen it before; spring barley. On the other side was a shining sun with a message inscribed,

in pace, ut sapiens, aptarit idonea bello

Klaus had read the same phrase elsewhere, he recalled. It's exact location, however, he could never quite pinpoint. Clara pulled open a drawer and from it, a small golden case. She opened it and pulled out a shining coin. Clara handed it to him.

"Look, this one is from last year. It's slightly smaller, and the back--"

"Thistles." Klaus finished.

Clara nodded. "The plant on the back of the coin is the simplest way of knowing when the coin is old or new."

Klaus rubbed his chin, "And how do I know which one is the current form of currency?"

Clara shrugged, "I'm not sure, usually Master Franz usually tells me which one, since he used to work at the bank, you see. But, I believe it has something to do with which flowers are in season, or when the harvest is or something like that..."

She quieted, her gaze fixated on the coins in her palm. She sighed and proceeded to scoop them all in one hand and tossed them back into the golden case in her lap. She opened the drawer once again, placed the case inside, and closed it.

Klaus tucked his hands in his pockets and examined the room. He was more curious about the German's office than any of the other rooms. But his attention was suddenly grabbed by the painting in the hallway that led to the office.

He made his way to the painting and Clara followed him into the hallway. It was extremely depressing, Klaus noticed. The child in the painting had the face of a recently slaughtered lamb.

"That's Master Franz--when he was younger, of course," Clara commented.

Klaus laughed quietly. He thought it only seemed fitting that the man would be such a sad sight to see even in his childhood.

"He's not a very cheerful person, is he?" Klaus asked.

Clara wrung her hands, "Well, he used to be. When he was younger, younger than here, he was one of the most positive boys I knew. Always bright and filled with life, he was. But you can't blame him for losing all hope when his parents..."

Clara trailed off and bowed to Klaus politely before leaving him to observe the painting alone.

"I should get started on dinner. Master Franz hasn't eaten all day." She called out before disappearing into the kitchen.

Klaus could feel the cold breeze of the wintery scenery behind the lonely child on his cheeks. He didn't understand the whole sadness behind the loss of a parent. He had gotten along quite alright on his own for as long as he could remember. There were times when he wished there was someone else in that world that could possibly comprehend his dread, his absolute misery. But the sadness that reflected upon the small child's eyes gave no comfort of solidarity but stressed that Klaus was completely and utterly

alone.