Tiny assassin

When first light broke, a gentle yellow light shone through the grimy windows of the village inn, waking the sleeping pokemon under the thick duvets, stirring him from what must have been a most enjoyable dream he had. Yawning, he slid out from under the unnecessarily thick covers and dropped onto the cold hardwood floor without as much as a soft creak. It was normal for him to move as such, after all, his job requires much stealth and dexterity if you want to live such a life as an assassin. Rubbing the sleep from his bleary eyes, he began his morning routine of making the rickety bed before proceeding to wash his face to wake himself up, then he would don his light blue cape, the sort of which most travellers use when on long distance treks. With his cape secured on him, the assassin proceeded to remove all of his belongings from the many hidden places he had chosen the night before, his pack was under a loose floorboard under the bed, a grappling hook in the toilet box thingy, and the most dangerous of all, a eternally poisonous sword by the name of Aria. He had received this very blade from the Hall of origin, the place where one can find the creator of all pokemon, Arceus, in fact, the sword was also once used by many famous assassins of the past as well. The blade itself glows with an undying green light, and the silver sword imbued with the toxins of many fatal sources, it was once said that a thousand Toxicroaks died when forging this forbidden blade, to believe it or not is another story. Approaching the dresser, the assassin removed the frosted mirror without as much as a scrape; the aged dresser had it's glue dried up sometime ago, leaving a hollow behind the cracked mirror, too small for a Stunfisk but big enough for a sword to be hidden in. Removing the sheathed blade from it's hiding place, he left the room, not without leaving a couple of oran berries as payment.

Driving the cool silver blade through it's bronzed skin, the assassin sliced right through flesh, driving his blade all the way through, before he lifted it, a deep red colour staining his knife as it flowed from the fresh slice. 

"Ya know, these fruits don't come by everyday ever since that idiot came to power over our land."

The assassin plunged a fork through the red flesh of a pomegranate, digging out a sizeable portion of flesh before taking a bite of the fruit, red juice dripping back onto his plate.

"There's no need to worry, soon he will be just nothing but a bad dream the village will wake from and realise they are free after all."

"I wish this is really just a bad dream, cause if it was, I would have woken up ages ago!"

The old Swalot innkeeper snorted as he went back to reading the paper, murmuring about the endless atrocities of Malice and his ministers while commenting on how was business these few days.

"Here's your money, and keep the change."

Looking up from his paper, the Swalot was shocked to see that his customer was gone, and he had left a rare Spelon berry as his payment, ten times more than he should have paid. Smirking, the assassin swiftly left the inn, and took his place in the tree by the speaker's corner, only a metre drop from where the Hydreigon would be making demands, perfect for the unexpected ambush, where no one will ever think of hiding or searching.

Time seemed to pass so slowly when there's nothing to do, but assassins were well trained for their tolerance and patience, to pass time while doing something beneficial to their given mission, to be always on the lookout for their target. He was halfway through sharpening Aria before the sound of trumpets announced the dreaded hour, it was high noon and the snow seemed to be mirrors on the ground, reflecting light towards the entrance, almost like a warm welcoming than an attempt to blind Malice. The shiny Hydreigon took no time to thank the villagers for his welcome, but had started to pinpoint all of their flaws and tax payments, wanting to get the job done before sundown. The assassin tensed, preparing the plan he had so finely crafted from the recesses of his tactical mind, he had never botched up any missions, ever, and this one will be another victory he will be able to return to his guild.

The speech began, with Scizors guarding the staircase leading to where the shiny Hydreigon sat, all three heads spitting demands at the poor villagers, and announcing that taxes will have to be doubled to pass the next few fragile years.

Of course, the assassin knew otherwise.

He had spied on their headquarters once, in a risky operation to steal from the berry store to assist in the construction of the underground assassin guild, and he knew the taxes mostly went to paying for luxuries than helping the citizens, this was what sparked this mission in the first place, to be rid of the corrupt officials.

Readying a haze bomb, the assassin gave a sharp whistle before smashing the explosive onto the Hydreigon's head knocking him out while stunning the Scizor guards who were meant to protect Malice. The death came quick and clean as the poisoned blade sliced all three heads off at once, before proceeding to behead the two guards, they didn't even know they were dead until they caught a glimpse of the assassin himself, but even then it was too late for regrets. 

The smoke cleared, and the villagers cheered and shrieked in happiness as they saw the dead official, whose grave shall be trampled and disfigured by many, but what shocked them all was the identity of the murderer, and the innkeeper had his jaw drop to the ground when he saw him.

The master assassin, and leader of the guild was nothing more than an innocent looking Larvesta wearing a blue traveller's cape, a sword sheath hidden beneath the folds and with a size no bigger than a Snesel.