The person who had arrived was none other than Dulham, Nazel's father. Because he had abandoned his wife and daughter in his younger days, the old assassin had once been deeply estranged from his daughter. But after the life-and-death trials they had faced together, the rift between father and daughter had long since vanished.
When Nazel had first begun to make a name for herself in Athkatla, Dulham had stayed by her side as her bodyguard and enforcer, helping her deal with quite a few troubles. But time spared no one. Coupled with all the dangerous adventures and brushes with death in his early years, his body had long since begun to fail him. For the past year or two, he had effectively been retired, though he still liked to stay at his daughter's side, seemingly hoping to make up for all the companionship he owed her in the final years of his life.
"I was worried about you. Didn't you have several important meetings today? Why did you cancel them all? Is something on your mind?"
In his youth, Dulham had been an absolute rogue. Having a family had been no different from having none at all; he had spent his life indulging himself. His experiences alone could have filled a book. Put simply, in a land as vast as Faerûn, there were hardly any places he had not been. Yet in his old age, he had finally come to understand the importance of family. Unfortunately, his wife had passed away before he could repent, leaving behind only Nazel, their only daughter. That was why he cherished her all the more.
What was more, Nazel had lost her husband in middle age, becoming a widow in the prime of her life. That made Dulham feel even guiltier. After all,