She peered up from behind the bush. That beautiful house sheltered a wicked man, Joseph Foullon de Doué, the tyrant, the exploiter of the poor.
Not long ago, he would have thought himself invulnerable. Now he was hiding. But still, he was safe and cushy, sleeping at his friend's house on a feathered bed. That would end tonight.
Her path was clear: the house had generous artistic embellishments, which provided great foot and hand holds. The sills of the first floor windows were decorated, and each window had a unique bust above it, and above that, there were two ledges around the perimeter of the house: one was at the level of the first floor ceiling, one was at the level of the second floor window-sills. From there, a window was opened, with just enough space for a girl trained in Assassin gymnastics to vault her body through.
With the yard clear, it was time to go back into the opened.
She scampered across the stone tile to get to the front wall of the house, and planted herself behind another bush
She gave one last visual sweep of the area. Still no one.
She was going to transition from outdoors to indoors. She placed a foot atop one of the sets of fake, miniature columns which adorned the first floor window sills and grabbed the face sculpture above it. She grabbed the first ledge, then the second. Then came her biggest moment: time to use one of her most advanced Assassin tricks into the world, training becoming real world praxis. She vaulted through the window, using honed flexibility to dive through the narrow passage and flip back onto her feet in one quick motion.
She found herself in an ostentatious bedroom, and saw the shocked old man in his night gown and night cap pathetically clutching his fancy covers. But in a split second he overcame his shock and reached for something under his blankets, as Élise went for her pistol with equal vigor.
They both brought pistols to bear, they both fired.
But his shot shattered a vase, while her shot shattered his sternum. Élise had been trained in the quick draw, while Joseph had spent his pampered life hiding behind soldiers.
His nightgown was decorated with blood.
"You couldn't escape judgement, even here. What do you say the masses who have starved while you feasted?"
"What I've always said...let those rascals eat hay."
"Even at death's door, that's still how you want to be remembered?"
"I've never sought the people's love, not even those of my own stripe. What makes you think I would start now?"
"A fair point."
He let out a final sigh and fell onto his side, as his blood leaked onto his fancy bed.
Dirty boots upon fancy rug, she approached and took out her handkerchief. She wiped his blood upon it. Another noble struck down in the people's vengeance. Another accomplishment to report back to Timothee. Another righteous service for her new allegiance.