Merely being in this place brought back unwanted memories. Daedhel had avoided Voltas were possible over the years, steering clear of it during her minimal travels through Valania. Yet here she was. Of course the area she was found herself in was quite the opposite of the exact location where she had grown up. As she slipped through the streets she caught sight the deprived and impoverished, the ruin that was the people of Valania. She ignored it and continued.

It really had changed in fourteen years. A lot had changed in that time. The person she had once been was dead, along with all of her family. Since then she had taken a new identity, a new goal and a new way of life. Of course she would never forget what had happened. It was part of what drove her forward, and part of why she took so much pleasure in the assassination of Sarifens. The money offered was, of course, another part of that. 

The assassin glanced around as she walked, blending in with the few that also wondered. She saw no need to try and hide nor disguise herself; it was not like anyone would recognise who she was. Assassin's never showed their faces when they made a kill. Any who saw them soon paid for it with their last breath. And the noble family she descended from, and all those with the name, would be forgotten. At least enough so that someone would know that. She had only been a L'Fivre for eight years. She was different from then in many ways.

Her destination, for now, was to return to her current lodgings. A little... persuasion had seen her set up in a small brothel, situated in the perfect location for her getting about. It was more than easy for her to blend in with all the other occupants. What had been asked of her was a small price to pay for the accomodation she got. While she had more than enough earnings to pay most people around here to give her a room in their meagre homes flaunting around a reasonable amount of money was not ideal when she wanted to keep a low profile. She never had much on her, the majority of what she had earned over the years stored in Ivalis. It was secure. She had made sure of that.

Daedhel remained alert, and hesitant, as she continued with one hand casually resting on the dagger in her belt. Few dared approached her, which was a problem she had had in the past. Her appealing body that often attracted people over was overshadowed by the dangerous glint in her eyes and intimidating expressions. She could easily fend of any unwanted attention, no matter who it was from. On her person at any one time were at least three weapons, minimum, all hidden in discrete folds and pockets in her reasonably tight fitted clothes. Who knew when she would find a new target to take out. She always had to be prepared. 

---

The overwhelming heat was never something she would get used to. While the room Corisande worked in was not small the blazing fires and amount of people certainly didn't help. There were two other apprentices, and three blacksmiths all working hard to get finished as soon as possible. They were all pushed to the limit to produce decent merchandise efficiently. With all the turmoil brewing there was only a constantly increasing demand for weapons. While this was what kept the business running, in Voltas no less, and allowed the owner to employ three other blacksmiths in addition to the apprentices it wasn't exacly pleasing work.

After all the demands were only getting more tasking and difficult to fulfill in the given time frame. The heat from constant smithing was not a great combination with the exhaustion they all felt from no breaks and a general lack of sleep. Corisande wiped a hand against the brow, black hair sticking to her forehead and falling across her eyes in a rather annoying manner. Most of the others had removed all clothes from above the waist to at least tried and reduce the heat they felt. Corisande could afford to do no such thing for it reveal that she was, in fact, not a boy.

"Stop daydreaming, Corin, before one of them notices you," the apprentice beside her hissed, a boy around her age. He was nice enough and she got on with him, though she wouldn't say it was a friendship. She blinked, only just realising she had become lost in her thoughts and ceased her hammering. Bending down slightly she continued to pound the metal before her into shape. Her arms practically screamed out in protest, gradually growing muscles almost giving out. 

"You would think they would run out of soldiers to arm by now," she muttered as she continued, glancing over at the apprentice beside her. Dion, she believed his name was. "We've made so many weapons of all shapes and sizes. I never thought I would wish for the day when I went back to smithing the basics."

"Same here," Dion replied quietly, voice slightly breathy. Corisande nodded slightly. Well, it could be worse. At least she had a place to stay, was fed enough to survive and had work. It had been quite a stroke of luck after living on the streets. She appreciated all that she had even if had to work hard for very little. She was still alive. That was something. It was better than the fate she would have faced back in her village. She wanted to do something like this, give life to all the ideas in her mind rather than bearing children until she was too old.

There was a sudden banging from the front and the sounds of raised voices, one unmistakably the owner. Corisande winced slightly, nervously running a hand through her short hair before continuing. That certainly didn't sound good.