After receiving the turtle doves, I was escorted back to my room and locked in with nothing but Crime and Punishment to keep me company.

  I fumed, wanting desperately to punch something. Flicking through the book again gave me no further ideas, and at length I decided to spend several of my lonely hours trying to develop a lock-picking ability, but as I had no actual lock-pick kit the ability seemed out of reach.

  I snarled, throwing a snow globe into the fireplace, watching it shatter and sizzle. I hated the feeling of being so helpless, but there was nothing I could do except wait for the next opportunity to speak to the Krampus and hope that in the meantime Nightfall and James were figuring out how to get back in contact with Jenny.

  Having the fate of the world hinge on James’ ability to write a decent letter of apology didn’t leave me with a lot of hope, but maybe if Nightfall managed to give her the upgrade plan she wanted, she’d forgive us enough to end the Christmas event and go back to normal.

  At length, the door to the office unlocked, and the Krampus announced he had returned.

  His desk was once again filled with paper, the stack of forms seeming even larger than yesterdays. I tried to put my resentment aside, not wanting to be banished to my room for more endless hours.

  “This is how people fall for Stockholm syndrome, isn’t it?" I muttered to myself, looking through the books and making sure to set aside a decent stack this time. If I was to spend hours every day on my own, at least I could have something to read.

  I could see how a person kept in isolation could eventually form an attachment to a captor, when the alternative was to be completely alone. But fury burned in my chest, along with the hope and deep commitment that I would find a way to be reunited with Jackal and Bastion who were separated from me only by a few walls. Or if I could only find a bird to talk to – one not in a cage – I could try and get a message to Bruiser.

  In the meantime, I could live with a fa?ade of tolerance until I figured out how to overcome the situation.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “What is your paperwork anyway?” I asked. “Anything I can help with?”

  “Every list needs to be checked twice,” the Krampus grumbled, and handed me a stack, asking me to reconcile the orders with the fulfillment papers the overseeing goblins had given him that day.

  It was easy data entry, and I made quick work out of it, noticing Santa’s scrawling signature at the foot of every order.

  “Can I ask a question?” I asked at length, hoping by bringing it up I wouldn’t be shutting down all conversation again.

  “I believe you just did,” the Krampus grunted.

  “I don’t want to upset you,” I said diplomatically, “but I’m just still trying to figure out how things work here.”

  The Krampus gave me a long, suspicious look. “Ask your question.”

  “Does Santa initiate all the orders?”

  I felt the rumbling snarl he emitted in my bones, but he kept his temper for which I was grateful.

  “Yes.”

  “And… what are you to him?”

  “My role is Santa’s assistant,” the Krampus said bitterly.

  “But you don’t like him.”

  “I do not wish to speak of this any further. The night is at its end. You may eat your meal and then return to your room.”

  The Krampus swept out the door and into his own quarters, leaving me alone in the office. I sat in silence, sipping my hot chocolate deep in thought.

  The relationship between the two was strained, but I had yet to figure out why, and it didn’t look like it would be a conversation the Krampus would willingly partake in.

  I realized with a start that the Krampus kind of hated his job. He was basically a middle manager, while Santa appeared to be the equivalent of ‘Head Office’. Every seasonal retail job I had ever worked swam through my mind as I thought of the endless array of instructions passed down via email by the ‘superiors’, while the store managers scrambled to find ways to meet all the arbitrary KPIs and took it out on turn to their employees.

  How many measures did the Krampus have to meet up to, and what were his punishments if he failed to achieve them? Was he, too, serving out some kind of sentence here?

  Perhaps I was off the mark with my idea of the goblins overthrowing the Krampus – perhaps it was the Krampus himself who could lead a coup against the reign of Santa. But was he even sentient enough to break out of his programmed role, and if he had developed free will would he even choose that as his path?

  I stacked up my pile of completed paperwork in his out-tray and took my pile of books back to my room. Finally, I felt like I had the beginning of a plan, although it was up to chance whether I’d be able to action it within the remaining ten days before the bonding ceremony.