Camber regarded Old Reliable. "So... they just have you... serving drinks?"
The old Lamplighter nodded. "Correct."
Camber leaned over the counter, urgently. "And that's it? You aren't stamping about, still lighting lamps?"
"Retired with dignity," said the old man.
Camber nodded. "Well, that's civil, that's fine," he declared. "Whatever my problem with the Lamplighters at the moment, let me state they are a model to emulate on the treatment of the wounded and disabled within a guild." He sniffled. "I tell you, it touches me, seeing a man in o--your condition treated with respect, and given a life of dignity, instead of being forced to trudge about dark streets at night, performing difficult tasks, never certain if the next set of stairs will be the end of you..."
"The Knife-Grinders did get you that peg-leg," noted Lamorac.
"Yes, and made me pay them back for it, the swine!" shouted Camber. "I tell you all those years of service, to be treated so..." He gave a sob.
Old Reliable poured him a drink. "It isn't always easy for me either. Times it hurts being seen as old and useless. But you know, you just... keep on going. The city's worth all the trouble, for all the pain it can cause."
Lamorac nodded. "That is profound. I wish we had a wise old man like you in the Knife-Grinders."
"With one leg, perhaps," said Camber as he nursed his drink.
"You're not old," said Lamorac. "Also, I'm a little dubious about the wisdom. You did stay loyal to them when they were going to kill me, despite the fact that on closer examination, they would likely target you as well."
Sacripant leaned into the small bar. "Would you two consider ending this doubtless fascinating discussion soon? Your fellows are on their way."
Lamorac stood up. "Right, right..."
"Let me finish my drink," said Camber.