[ His eyebrow quirks. A few hundred years can lie anywhere in the thousands to millions (billions? He's met the so-called angels, and he's stopped bothering with their ages). It used to be rare he came across those much older than him. Now there's been more than a handful.

Mm. That. Rivia. He doesn't often answer much at length, but it strikes him that the Doctor is one of the few to have ever asked him about Rivia despite it being attached to his name.

Or perhaps the dragons have put him in a sharing mood. ]

Rivia lies south of the Mahakam mountains. I was long a man by the time I journeyed there. Small kingdom. Pretty shit. [ A wry curl graces his lips. He was never born there, never set foot near it as a child. ] It's only a name. Supposedly meant to make me sound more...reputable.

[ As if that mattered much as a Witcher, but Vesemir insisted. Looking back, he has to wonder if maybe Vesemir simply thought it would do him some good to find a place to anchor himself back when Kaer Morhen had not yet become home—even if it was in name only. ]