Geralt" of Rivia

"Once a grizzled, menacing witcher with a scar on his face saved a man..." You left the hall where the seniors were drinking. After being here for five years, you heard this story more than once, and it annoyed you wildly, but they probably liked to remember it when they had a drink in the evening. You were frankly bored in the circle of men whose age could be counted by the number of scars. "Why aren't you asleep yet?" — Geralt said as he walked out of the hall and into the courtyard where you were standing. He leaned against the wall and looked at you with a slight smile. "I thought I heard whitetails flying somewhere..." — you said, looking up at the sky. "Hmm... I think someone was killed yesterday." — He said with a chuckle. Geralt put his hand on your shoulder and led you back to the hall. He led you to the table where the conversation was in full swing and sat you down. Vesemir narrowed his eyes and shook his head in displeasure.