The goblins drove us out to stand in line for the phaeton without delay, and Bruiser had to fetch us travelling cloaks from inside so we wouldn’t freeze as we stood in the square. The cobblestones were slick with blood and began to ice over as the day crept towards evening. Snow began to settle on top of the dirty slurry that had been left behind from the markets.

  We were each issued with a black gift card after signing the contract handed to us through the phaeton window. I’d attempted to read it, hoping it would provide a clue as to what was in store for us, but it proved a mess of small print legal jargon just as incomprehensible as the terms and conditions that pop up when downloading apps from the Appstore.

  The three of us huddled together, averting our eyes from the gory displays of the public whippings.

  The light eventually dimmed, and the ‘ungiving’ were given a final chance to purchase a gift card.

  Three of the ‘ungiving’ had already despawned, their health having deteriorated from the punishment too far to hold on to life. Several dragged their feet to the phaeton and signed away their freedom in exchange for the black card before joining us in the pen.

  “You reckon I should heal him?” I asked, nudging Bastion as we surveyed the beaten orc.

  “If he’s not sentient, it would probably be kinder to let him despawn,” Bastion shrugged. “But if he is sentient, he might die before he gets the chance. It’s up to you.”

  I weighed up my options, wrestling with my conscience. I could ask him a question like “What’s your favourite colour?” as a test – NPCs didn’t tend to have preferences, and would just look baffled at personal enquiries, but I’d witnessed several individuals – including the guys in my own harem – edge towards sentience over time as they adapted to self-awareness.

  Even just by asking the question, I might doom him to his life of indentured labour.

  But the cost of not acting was just as heartless, and I had a soft spot for orcs since developing feelings for Brick and realizing most people considered his whole species expendable brawn.

  “Hey, orc! What’s your favourite colour?”

  The orc looked up at me, confusion glazing over his eyes. “What?”

  “Do you have a favourite colour?”

  “The grindin’ hell does that matter at a time like this?” he muttered, spitting a glob of blood on the ground.

  “Emma,” Bastion gave me an odd look. “What are you doing?”

  “Checking for sentience?” I shrugged.

  “You’re weird,” the orc said, rolling onto his side.

  “Do you want to be healed or not?” I asked, annoyance growing.

  “What does that have to do with colours? You gonna turn me blue when you heal me?”

  I huffed and fished in my bag for a bottle of slime.

  “Here, it’s up to you whether you take it or not.”

  The orc gave me a long, curious look before downing the bottle of slime in one gulp. Immediately the oozing strips of skin began to knit themselves back together and the dark green bruises faded back to their normal orcish hue.

  “Thanks, succubus,” the orc grunted.

  “It’s Emma,” I offered my hand to shake his. “And this is Bastion and Jackal.”

  “Grug,” he said after a moment. “My name’s Grug. And my favourite colour is green.”

  I beamed at him, pleased I’d made the right choice. It would be good to have another ally to face whatever was coming.

  “Krampus coming! Krampus coming!”

  The goblin chant grew louder and louder as they skittered around the courtyard to get in formation. The phaeton’s window slammed shut, heralding the end of the gift-purchasing season.

  Silence fell across the town, broken only by the goblin’s chanting and the clip-clop of hooves on the pavement.

  Bruiser and Brick stood outside the bakery on the opposite side of the courtyard to us, eyes focused down the street that led into town, which was visible from their vantage point but not ours.

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  Brick had Ravager gripped tightly in hand, while Bruiser’s weapons were strapped to his side. Unfortunately, none of the debtors had been allowed weapons, which Bastion had grumbled about since their confiscation. Jackal drew closer to my side, instincts ready for a fight.

  The clip-clop noise grew louder, and the chanting suddenly ceased. My breath caught in my throat as the Krampus turned the corner.

  It was huge, a good foot and a half taller than Bruiser, with its twisted horns reaching up another foot and a half again. Its muscular chest had a similar bulk to that of an orc, while its skin was a deep brown, covered in fur everywhere except for its abdomen.

  Unlike James’ rendition of Krampina, this Krampus was decidedly male, and didn’t have a skull for a face, but a beastly monstrosity somewhere between a bull and a human.

  The Krampus paused at the corner, before turning to us, his haunches moving robotically as his cloven hooves clip-clopped on the cobblestones.

  “Is he… a minotaur?” I asked, having never seen a full-blooded minotaur in person. In fact, the only minotaur I had met was Jackal, but he’d inherited only the humanesque elements, alongside the human-shaped half of his mermaid mother. Other than his high strength, low intelligence stats and hot temper, there was very little minotaur left in him and most assumed him to be human.

  “Not a full one,” Jackal said, squinting at him. “His face and horns aren’t right. He’d look more like a bull if he was a real minotaur.”

  “Maybe he’s part succubus?” Bastion said, eyes flicking between his horns and mine. “Or he could be an original species. We won’t know for sure unless we get a look at his coding or character sheet.”

  I pressed my lips together in thought, watching the Krampus approach the stage, dragging his hooves.

  “He looks kind of miserable,” Bastion said.

  “I thought the same thing,” I agreed.

  A goblin climbed to position at the front of the stage, holding its head high as it ceremoniously bowed to the Krampus.

  “Your beastliness!” The goblin addressed him, as the surrounding hoard stomped their feet and slashed their loaded socks on the ground in a clattering cacophony. “I give you the Ungiving! Unleash your judgement!”

  The Krampus surveyed the remaining three civilians, who were shaking in fear from their position on the stage. He let out a long, rumbling sigh and gestured to the first civilian, a trembling gnome.

  “Who have you failed to procure gifts for?” the Krampus asked, his voice rough and demanding.

  “M-m-m-my mother,” the gnome answered miserably.

  “And you chose not to acquire a gift card?” the Krampus asked, its voice flat and almost bored.

  “I… I can’t abide by debt, sir! Please, if I could make my gift – I’m a skilled artisan! I could make anything!”

  The Krampus pulled a large sack from his shoulder and shook it open.

  “Get in the bag,” he instructed.

  “P-please! I can make-”

  “GET IN THE BAG!” The Krampus roared so loud it felt like the cobblestones we were standing on were rattling with the reverberation.

  The gnome immediately hopped in the bag. With more swiftness than I would have expected of such a huge creature, he grasped a large club from his waist and brought it down on the bag with unbelievable force. The bag deflated, the gnome having popped out of existence from within its depths.

  “NEXT!” The Krampus roared.

  A feliskin was brought forwards.

  “Who have you failed to procure gifts for?”

  “My teammate,” the feliskin answered miserably.

  “Get in the bag.”

  The feliskin climbed in the bag without complaint and was swiftly beaten out of existence.

  The final person, a wood elf, was brought forwards.

  “Who have you failed to procure gifts for?”

  “My wife.”

  “Your wife…” the Krampus paused, his expression darkening even further.

  The wood elf nodded, eyes on the ground.

  “My wife…” the Krampus repeated, his voice quiet and husky.

  The wood elf remained motionless.

  “Sir?” the goblin on stage prompted the Krampus, miming beating a bag with a club when the Krampus failed to respond.

  The Krampus grunted at the goblin, swatting it off the stage, and straightened his back, looking down on the elf with a look full of contempt.

  “You are forgiven.”

  “W-what?” the wood elf asked, looking hesitantly up at the beast.

  A chorus of confusion broke out amongst the goblins.

  “You are forgiven!” the Krampus repeated angrily. “Now GO! Before I change my mind!”

  The elf didn’t need to be told a third time, leaping off the stage, his form disappearing into the night.

  The Krampus gestured to the goblins, some of whom were looking on the brink of revolt.

  “Shows over,” the Krampus growled, striding past the phaeton and towards the cluster of prisoners. “We should get these back to… What have we here?”

  He stopped in front of me, shoving Grug roughly out of the way with impressive strength.

  “And what are you?” he asked, reaching a large, hairy-knuckled finger out to touch my horns.

  “A succubus,” I said, jerking my head away.

  He looked me up and down thoughtfully, before nodding decisively.

  “You’ll do. Put her in the phaeton!”

  “Don’t touch her!” Jackal snarled as a goblin approached me.

  The Krampus grabbed Jackal’s arm with a bruising grip and snarled in his face.

  “You will stand down and learn your place,” the Krampus instructed, and I was surprised to see Jackal’s head droop in compliance. There was very little in either world that could have such an effect on his bull-headed stubborn streak.

  “He must have an Intimidation ability,” Bastion said, drawing close to me. “It has a similar coercive power to your Charm and Seduction abilities, based on combined charisma and strength.”

  The Krampus dropped the now-docile Jackal to the ground and towered over me.

  “Who are these two to you?”

  I felt myself quaking in fear, unsure whether it was the impact of his Intimidation ability or if it was genuine fear.

  “My boyfriends,” I answered honestly. “Please don’t hurt them, they’re only trying to protect me.”

  The Krampus snorted aggressively. “Figures.”

  He looked between Jackal and Bastion in disgust. “You two stay with the rest. Your girlfriend is mine now.”

  I shared a helpless look with Bastion, as the goblins took me by the hand. I saw Bruiser place a hand on Brick’s shoulder across the square, the orc looking furious at what was happening.

  “Where are you taking me?” I asked, hoping to at least reveal that much before I was shut away in the black carriage.

  “You’re coming home with me,” the Krampus said. “You will serve your debt as my wife. Comply with my instructions, and your boyfriends will not come to harm.”

  The last thing I saw as the phaeton door shut me into darkness, was Jackal and Bastion’s stricken expressions.