"Because I didn't know how long you were going to take! Why am I supposed to know everything?" Vena grouses, using outrage to hide a bit of intimidation. Guts is big and having him mad at her, even a little bit, is worse than him following closer behind than she expected. She raises her chin and trots back towards the infirmary, refusing to look back.

Here in the summer most work involving high heat is done in the morning and late afternoon, avoiding the hottest part of the day. A stultifying warmth still radiates and there is a dim glow of banked coals from the forge. What can be seen in that dim light in passing is that it's definitely larger than most village smithies, with space and tools for multiple smiths. The most prominent anvil is on a taller base than the others. If his sword is there, it's not somewhere obvious.

Even with the slatted windows and door allowing air to move through it, the infirmary is stuffier than outside. Vena starts working on using a taper to light some ceramic oil lamps with bright metal backings that cast pretty good light considering. It's hard to treat someone if you can't see them. As the darkness lifts it becomes possible to see that one of the beds has had something long hastily shoved lengthwise under the covers, like it's a patient.