Honesty was close to her goal now, the gatehouse was within reach. Jake was elsewhere wreaking havoc doing what Jake did best. (He could be very distracting when he wanted to be, and after every teacher in the academy had pointed that out during his expulsion hearing he went off into the world to put his gods given talents to use. By the sounds of crashing, walloping, and startled chickens in the background she could safely assume he was working hard.)

She only had to get close enough to break that chain on the gate, and then she could get the hell out of here (Jake could fend for himself, Honesty was not what you would call a team player, but when a job offers to pay this well? Personal dislike of the team dynamic drops rather low on the priority list, at least until it was time to shiv your teammates for their share. The inevitable double cross was practically the cost of doing business these days. Come to think of it maybe that was a contributing factor in her distaste for teamwork.)

Oh the guards had swept past again, from what she’d observed so far that meant she had five minutes before the next patrol, easy peasy. Three and a half minutes later she had to press herself into a window alcove, and hope nobody in the street below was watching as a messenger threw off her timing. Them taking advantage of a nearby statue as cover for a quick smoke didn’t help. Though she’d never realised Garuw liked to smoke before she was far more concerned with holding her breath. (Pro tip when infiltrating an enemy base second hand smoke really does kill, especially if you are a non smoker and accidentally breathe in a lungful. If the coughing doesn’t kill you directly being caught because of it definitely will. A crossbow bolt from a startled guard is seldom beneficial for biological breathing apparatus, especially as spies don’t typically start their missions with pneumothorax, though ending up with it is a distinct possibility.)

Finally as Honesty’s leg was cramping up in ways she didn’t even think possible the messenger (who also remembered the patrol schedule for obvious reasons,) stubbed out their cigarette and continued on their run.

Honesty pressed herself down as flat as humanly possible into the alcove, keeping her wire, and a small knife in hand just in case. Making it just in time before the next patrol swept through. She was incredibly lucky that they were crap at their job, as they didn’t even notice her. Now all she had to do was off a single gate guard, and mess up the chains so the big gate would fall and she could get the hell out of here.

It took another two minutes to get close to the gatepost, and another to make sure to approach in a way that they wouldn’t smell her coming (after five minutes in Jake’s presence not as easy as it sounds.) Then one quick knife thrust, and she was in the clear. Unlocking the drawbridge system, and then.......... wait, wasn’t this the bit where she usually heard the satisfying clang of the gate falling? She peered out....... into a courtyard full of mud, wait, what kind of maniac buries a gate?

Stolen novel; please report.

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The maniac in question was midway through the least stealthy infiltration mission of all time, between yapping Ter yur, and screeching owl-bears, and swearing Mibbets. Oh and Sir Leeroy acting as a bipedal battering ram literally the only quiet thing in the entire group was Werrerd, who was making up for their lack of vocal input by sheer percussive effort. That strange tube like club they had borrowed from Kawn was being swung round like it weighed nothing, and hitting like it weighed a tonne. Werrerd loved this thing, it hit with such a satisfying feeling, it was like bludgeoning the enemy with a tubular bell. (Alright so maybe nothing about this mission was stealthy. Even if you ignored the percussion the vocals from the enemy were growing somewhat louder, and Sir Leeroy hitting something head on sounded like a pack of cymbals falling off a cliff.)

Mibbet was beginning to realise that maybe they had slightly blown the stealth portion of this particular mission when another bunch of humans charged towards her. For people who claimed to be rescuing her they seemed particularly interested in making sure she was rescued via the instalment plan, and Mibbet did not like that idea one little bit. She liked all her bits, crummy and human as they were right now, and was pretty sure that if she was ever by some miracle to get back to her froggy glory the powers that be, (whatever the hell they may be,) would definitely insist on the host body being intact. Rosalind of course was also rather attached to remaining in one piece, so at last they had something in common. As the tenacity and force with which she booted her attackers would no doubt attest.

Well when stealth failed it was time to fall back on an old Von Harmsworth solution, one that had saved countless generations of her family. C.A.C, or Carelessly Applied Violence, a go to solution for royals, (and in another sense a go to solution FOR royals, though that was less applicable in this particular context.) Now given that that was Mibbet’s go to solution to most things these days (at least the ones that didn’t require a tactical application of disrespect, or oddly for a Princess triggering a revolution.) She had to settle for phase two, more violence, and phase three, actually looking where the hell you are going.

Up on the hill in the distance she could see the command tent, if the spell caster was anywhere it would be there, so she gestured once towards the hilltop, and began the most unpleasant ten minutes or so of not so tactical manouvering of her life, before finally flinging the tent open...... And realising it was empty.