It took him another hour or so to get back to the main road, and by then the kittens had all fallen asleep again, comfortable in their pouches. He’d spent the walk wondering what would happen if one of them was to die. Surely, they’d respawn like him, somehow? He was glad he hadn’t had to find out and resolved to finally summon Oculus for some questioning once he was alone for the night. He passed more characters and players going about their business, and after reviewing the traffic, he realised it mostly was poorly dressed players headed quickly, heads down, towards the Outpost, and more expensively dressed ones sauntering away from it.

As he got closer to the palisades before the river, he spotted a queue that had formed to cross the bridge. A small line of mostly human players, not dissimilar to himself, waited patiently as guards and scribes checked them over before waving them across. He decided to wait for Angie before he went any further and looked around for an out of the way place from which he could see the roads and the gate. There were small groups of trees dotted about the rocky scenery, and he chose one on a small rise in the ground with a good view and sat to wait. He let the kittens romp about on the ground, shielded from the view from the road by a clump of rocks.

About an hour passed before he saw Angie coming down the roadway from the north, now sporting a small wooden shield and a warm looking woollen hat. He’d already put the kittens in his bandolier as they’d each fallen asleep, so he headed out to intercept her. She greeted him with a smile and a wave,

“Morgan! I wasn’t expecting to see you here first. Did you make it?”

Morgan looked at her with a raised eyebrow, before patting himself down to check he was there.

She rolled her eyes at him, “No, you muppet, what I mean is; did you manage to get the gold?”

He grinned at her and nodded. “I’m temporarily wealthy. I’ll admit, it’s been hard, surrounded by all this interesting, useful, sometimes even magical junk and not being able to buy anything. I take it you did OK? Nice shield, great hat, by the way.”

She laughed, “My time up north was as profitable as it was short, I did OK for sure. Pretty wacky run in with some golems, but that story can wait. That’s a nice, um, shoulder belt you have there. Looks good on you.” she squinted at the pouches. “I could have sworn I just saw one move, what the hell are you keeping in there?”

Morgan gestured over to the patch of trees he’d been sitting at with a face-splitting grin, “Come with me, I’ve got something to show you.”

Passing the clump of rocks, Angie’s jaw dropped in amazement as Morgan pulled the kittens from the bandolier, setting them down. The fluffy mob immediately went to sniff at Angie’s feet, before starting to play, pouncing on each other. Settling in by trees they took their time, trading stories as they admired his new charges.

After the kittens fell asleep and went back into the pouches, the conversation slowed, and they both caught the other’s eye looking at the outpost. Looking at the grey and gloomy aspect of the settlement and its defences, he decided to finally put the kittens away properly. He scanned around them to check that no one was looking in their direction, and surreptitiously opening the bag of cats around his neck, angling the opening down towards his chest. The cats, still sleeping, popped out of the pouches and flew into the Bag of Cats. Angie stood in astonishment, watching the bizarre process. Once it was done, he tucked the Bag and its thong under his shirt out of sight and gestured to Angie that it was time to go.

It took Angie a moment to start moving, having to take a moment to process what she’d just seen. She called to Morgan, “Hey, a bit of warning before please, next time you start shrinking kittens into magic sacks, OK? Bloody cat herder.” She started to giggle.

Morgan pretended offense, “If you’ll excuse me, cat herding has long been an indispensable asset to society at large. See all these cats?” he gestured expansively around him. She rolled her eyes as he continued, “Exactly. It would be teeming with cats if not for the herders.”

They reached the line, and settled in, overhearing the couple of players in front of them talking,

“You know, I got a bad feeling about this; it’s looking more like modern day slavery with extra steps.” Said a burly human to his less burly counterpart. The man replied, in a whining tone, “I know, man, I know. But we haven't really got options. You signed that contract, just like I did. Anyway, it's probably better to slave in here from the comfort of a capsule than work at the factories. You know as well as I do that the average lifespan of the workers there is shocking for all the wrong reasons. So, be calm, and let me do any talking, OK?” The burlier man grumbled his assent.

The queue was moving quickly, and soon Morgan was face to face with a guard. He was surprised to see that the man behind the armour was a player.

The guard greeted him in a bored tone, “Name?”

Morgan responded, telling him, spotting a scribe behind the man start scribbling on a scroll.

“Class, if applicable?” said the guard.

He hesitated for a moment. “I’m a herder.”

The man nodded, the scribe scribbled, and the questions moved on. “Time in game?”

“5 days”

“Any skills?”

Morgan quickly checked his stats. “Uhh, I have a few levels in harvesting, and some meagre weapon skills.”

The man nodded again. “Good, that’s it. Give your 5 gold to the scribe and please head to the town hall.” He handed over the 5 gold, and in return the scribe cast a small spell on him, and he looked at his status and saw that he was ‘Marked’. With that, he was dismissed.

Proceeding across the bridge, he passed more player guards standing at the entrance through the grey stone wall. He noted a handful of elves with bows and a couple of maji standing atop the wall, all scanning the horizon for threats. The number of players who stood guard on this place was intimidating; bar the centre of Dilanar, he hadn’t seen so many people in one place. He shuffled through, following the two players from the line. A man, dressed as a scribe in scholarly robes caught their attention as they came out into the town proper, directing them with a gesture towards a large grey stone building. He repeated the gesture to Morgan, who trudged the grey stone slabs of the floor towards it.

The structure was squat and ugly, a short flight of steps up to a wide entrance further marred its front, and he headed into the brutalist building. Inside, it gave off the contrasting impression of an old-style high-end hotel lobby; further enhanced by two queues of poorly armoured people, separated by a rope that hung from stands. A guard gestured him to join a queue and he complied wordlessly. After a moment, he saw Angie come through and join the line behind him. At the front of the two queues, two more guards were slowly funnelling people to one of the four doors at the back of the lobby. Ominously, they didn’t come back out.

After an indeterminable wait, Morgan was in turn taken to a door. He opened it to find himself in a small room with two wooden chairs sitting either side of a table covered in scraps of parchment and a door on the opposite wall. On the seat that faced him, a maji player sat on a small cushion, holding a quill in his hand.

Morgan greeted the man, brightly, “Hi there, I’m Morgan, pleased to meet you.”

The player replied in a reedy voice as he gestured for Morgan to take a seat, “Hi there, Pal. I’m Davoi. Welcome to the lovely Kandalan Outpost.” he smiled sardonically, “I’ve been asked by our masters to do a quick identify on the incomers, such as yourself. I have a spell... Never mind, let's get on with it. Do me a favour and stay stock still for a second... Thanks.” the man paused for a second, his quill starting and stopping, not quite making it to the table.

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After an awkward moment, Morgan interrupted Davoi who was ogling into space. “Excuse me, are you OK?”

The gaunt maji pulled himself out of his trance, “Sorry, yeah, I’m fine. Just... Well... Cat Herder? I’ve never seen a class like that before. Is that a bug?” He looked at Morgan quizzically.

Looking a bit forlorn, Morgan replied. “Uh, yeah, something went a bit funny with the class change. I’m supposed to be a cattle herder, but it doesn’t work.”

The man looked across the table at him and laid his quill down. “Look, I’m supposed to be writing down all your stats for inspection. If I write down, ‘Cat Herder’ on this document, you’re likely going to get into a lot of problems. It’s a unique soulbound class, and all.” He paused for a moment, thoughtfully, before continuing, “Look, I’m stuck here, just like you, I know what it’s like. I’ll give you a chance. If you can show me a cat, I won’t write your class on the document. I mean, screw those guys, have you met them? They’ll take your damn cat as a novelty if they found out, and that’s not on.”

Morgan stared uncomfortably at the maji for a long moment, now worried about his meeting with the girls on the road where he’d displayed his charges so openly. He assessed the man and his options. He reasoned that if he had a chance not to declare the class to the guild, he should probably take it, and the player seemed genuine enough.

Slowly, he reached under his tunic, lifting out the Bag of Cats. Davoi’s eyes boggled as he watched Morgan pour six kittens onto the table from the small pouch, the tiny creatures still sleeping. The small grey one awoke as it landed, letting out a small angry meow. As the other kittens started to join in, he quickly closed and reopened the bag, scooping them all back in before they made too much of a racket. The maji player stared with wide eyes at the desk where the kittens had been, then up at Morgan. After regaining his wits, the maji addressed Morgan,

“Wow. Just wow. That’s... How did that happen? Wait, no, it doesn’t matter. Thanks for showing me, that’ll keep me going for weeks.” he started to write on a parchment. “Look here, on this document, you’re a low-level gatherer. That’s all. You should get a reasonable job out of this damn place. Please don’t give yourself away while you’re here, as my name is also on this document. Most people won’t be able to see the class, so you should be hidden as long as you don’t do anything stupid. OK?”

Morgan nodded gratefully, “Thank you Davoi, you’ll excuse me if I add you as a friend.”

Davoi smiled back, “Go for it. Maybe I’ll see you again; now get out of here, I can’t be too long with each of you. Out the door, go left and grab some food. Good luck.”

Morgan followed the maji’s instructions and scurried out the door. Heading left down the short corridor, an archway led into a hall filled with benches, a few people sitting and eating from bowls. At one end of the hall, a set of cauldrons hung above small fires, and a player sat on a stool next to them, ladle in hand. Morgan moved to the man, grabbing a bowl from a stack on the way. He saw Angie arrive as his bowl was filled, and soon they were both sat before steaming bowls.

“So, how did it go?” inquired Morgan.

Angie turned to reply, playing with her soup as it cooled, “Fairly straightforward. I was classified as a ‘general labourer with combat experience’, which seems to sum up my time here so far fairly accurately. How about you; how did they deal with the... well, you know.”

Morgan quietly recounted the incident with Davoi, sharing the maji’s warning to keep his secret close, “So that’s that. I was definitely lucky. He classified me as a low-level gatherer, whatever that’s going to mean.” He shrugged and finally tried his soup. It tasted like vegetable water. “This soup is very basic. 2% to XP for 4 hours? Doesn’t say much about our hosts.” They chatted idly for a while as they ate, watching more players slowly filter into the room. After a short while, a guard stepped in through a different door to make an announcement,

“You lot”, the man barked like a drill sergeant, “once you’ve finished eating, make your way through this door behind me, where you will be allocated a room. You’re in luck as most of you’ll be making your way to your new jobs by tomorrow afternoon.” with that, he spun and disappeared back behind the door.

“So, what do you think we’re here for? Why us, in a game, being sent to do these mysterious jobs? And have you noticed there doesn’t seem to be a single character in this place?” asked Morgan, thoughtfully. Angie was quiet for a while before she replied, “I’ve been trying to put it all together; the censorship of the game from the media, for a start, makes no sense as a business move. Why not let the game advertise itself? Then the censorship from within the game; I can’t get a message out to my dad that would tell him enough about what's going on here before the crystal cuts off. The obviously don’t want any scrutiny. What I believe is happening here,“ she gestured around her, ”is that they’re selling us, or at least a handle on our contracts. Remember I told you about the rumours of the disappearances of the CEO and lead game architect? It’s got to be connected somehow.”

Morgan nodded along, “Selling us? I guess from what I’ve seen that adds up. Let's pray for good masters for our virtual slavery, then, as its all we can do.”

Angie agreed, sadly, “Yup, like the good slaves we are. At least this will keep us alive for long enough to enjoy a life out of this place, let's try and remember that.”

The pair, having finished their thin soup, stood and walked to the door. Before they reached the door, Morgan turned to Angie, “Angie, I don’t know if we’ll see each other tomorrow. If we don’t, stay in touch, it's good to have a friend in this world.”

Angie nodded resolutely, “Same goes to you Morgan, good luck.”

They walked through the door, where a player took them individually to rooms upstairs. Morgan’s room was small and square, made of the same grey rock as the rest of the settlement. A low wooden bed with a white sheet stood out in the dull room, and he took a seat and released his kittens. They had definitely grown quite a bit since he’d got them the day before. They must be growing with each level in his Cat Handler skill. He pulled some meat from his storage, and the cats swarmed him, yowling for the food. While they were eating, he pulled out the astral crystal and called home.

His mum answered, “Morgan! Good to hear you. I hope you’re doing well?”

They chatted for a while; Morgan unable to really tell them much of what had happened to him, but his mum was talking enough for both of them, with Claire chipping in occasionally. After a while, his dad joined the call, “Morgan, look, we’re looking into hiring a lawyer to go over your contract. These communication restrictions can’t be legal. Bear with us, it’s a huge document, but we’ll do what we can to clear this up.”

He thanked the lot of them and said his goodbyes as he started to get ready to sleep. He thought for a while about leaving the kittens out tonight but reasoned that someone may come in to wake him in the morning. After giving each of his furry gang a little attention, he collected them into the Bag of Cats, and went to sleep.

Morgan was awoken the next morning by a powerful voice outside, “Wake up, sleepyheads. Report to the food hall in half an hour for breakfast and instruction.” The voice repeated these words, travelling down the corridor. Morgan stretched and fed the cats again while he got dressed. As they were finishing up, he received a notification,

[You have reached Cat Herder : Level 4]

He smiled down at the small cats. It seemed like his class got XP from both feeding them and having them present in a fight. He packed the slightly larger beasts back up into the Bag, and headed out to the food hall, seeing more players like himself in various stages of wakefulness moving in the same direction. Angie was already sat at a table with a couple of other when he arrived in the hall, so he moved over to join them. They were chatting about their ‘classifications’. It seemed the tall man across from him was to be a miner, and the elf lady a lumberjack. Morgan joined in the conversation as a table was laid with food where the cauldrons had been previously. “Good to meet you all, I’m Morgan. Guess you guys are in for an adventure too?”

The man snorted in amusement, “I guess you could call it adventure. I think I’m going to regret gaining my first few gold through mining. I’m Aaron, by the way.” Morgan nodded a greeting to the man as the elf joined in, “I’m Clarissa. Thankfully I love the woods, so hopefully that’s where they’ll send me. Let go grab some food before it’s all gone.”

The group headed to the buffet, and Morgan helped himself to some eggs and toast. Once they were all back and eating happily, commenting on how it was a much better meal than yesterday’s soup, another guard appeared for an announcement. “I’ll be calling names. As your name is called, report to this door on the left.” The guard motioned to a different door from yesterday, “You will be processed out and sent to your new job.” The man immediately followed it up by starting to call out names from a list.

The group hushed and ate their meal in silence until the elf was called away. They wished her luck as she headed to the door. When it was Morgan’s turn, he waved goodbye to the others and strode to the door to meet his destiny.

A player dressed as a scribe was waiting for Morgan, and he gestured him to follow down a long corridor, taking him into a side room near the end. Once they were inside, he addressed Morgan, looking at some parchment on a crude clipboard. “Morgan. You’ve been selected for a harvesting contract up north in the town of Caslon. Baron Ostius will be looking after you during your stay. Once you leave here, you must take and stay on the north road, the travel will take a whole day. You will be expected by the baron tomorrow afternoon at the latest. Now, please follow the corridor to the end, and take a left once you leave. That will get you back to the gates.”

Thus dismissed, Morgan headed out of the building towards the gates, ready to start on the next leg of his journey. Once he’d made it across the bridge and was back outside the palisade, he looked back at the grey settlement, sending Angie a message,

[Morgan – I’m to head north to a town named Caslon to be a gatherer of some sort. I've made it out, shall I wait for you?]

The reply was quick,

[Angie – They’re keeping us here another day. They’ve conscripted me into the military, along with a handful of others. I think we’re to head further west, but I’m not sure yet. Stay safe out there.]

Morgan sent a message of acknowledgement and turned to the north.