Warrior's Reincarnation

It was an early, rainy morning. Dark, heavy clouds loomed over the city of Vania when Micah arrived at the city's airport. He had only luggage in hand and a messenger bag containing his personal needs, as he wasn't planning on staying too long in the city. He was here for a job for which he was supposed to be picked up from the airport by Dr. Lucas' secretary. He looked around and then saw a black Humvee stop close to the entrance. The driver, a man who didn't look a day over thirty with blonde hair that almost looked white, got out of the car and walked towards him. “Mr. Micah Volkov, I am Ray Matthews, the secretary of Dr. Lucas. Welcome to the small and humble city of Vania,” he greeted warmly as he stretched out a hand to him. "Mr Matthews. Good to meet you," he greeted warmly in return and shook his hand. It was roughly a thirty-minute drive from the airport back to Dr. Lucas' home. It was a long trip, but Micah made do, turning to the outside scenery to appease his boredom. He had never been in the city of Vania before. Never had he thought it would look provincial as the car covered a kilometre after, leaving the boundary of the bustling main city to more peaceful and serene farm lands. The rain had finally ceased, but its downpour left the road flooded with ankle-deep water when they reached the town of Aerive, where Lucas' home was located. Usually, the town at this time would have been asleep, but it was already bustling with activity. Many crop and plant vendors had just set up their tents along the roads. Wagons and booths of different sizes occupied the lawns to provide much-needed refreshment and entertainment, and over a clear field, a mini-amusement park began to take form. Looking at the activity beyond the car’s window, his eyes rested on a certain area untouched by all the frenzy. It was a small lawn with little to no vegetation, surrounded by a picket fence. A man inside bent over to pick up a stem of freesias from the soil, and as he did, his long locks of chestnut brown hair fell from his face. He looked ethereal and at peace, exactly the opposite of the clamour outside the fence. He wore a red button-down shirt and black slacks. Right after he uprooted the plant, he straightened and looked towards his side of the window. It felt like he could see right through the dark-tinted windows with his startling blue eyes. Micah was shocked and was also a bit aroused by the intensity of his eyes. He couldn't pinpoint where exactly, but his face looked so familiar. “We’re almost there, Mr. Micah. We just need to pass this traffic.” Ray's voice caught his attention, and his eyes quickly shifted from the man to the driver's reflection in the front view mirror. "Ah, yes, that’s good,” he answered, clearing his throat. When he looked back at the man, he was nowhere in sight. What remained was the empty lawn, which looked duller than he had thought at first. ***** The driver turned the ignition off when they reached the reserved parking lot of the house. The house looked ancient when Micah regarded it. It was made of large white stone boulders, but it was covered with thick moss and creeping vines, ultimately hiding its brilliant colour. When the two men entered the building, it was an even more admirable sight. It had a foyer as wide as half a basketball court, and it was floored with red marbles. The centre had an ancient sun design; right on top was a century-old chandelier. Every piece of furniture was in order, especially the ivory-made saints lined up along the walls. “Mr. Volkok, please make yourself comfortable. Sir Peter here will escort you to your room, and come lunchtime, Dr. Lucas will dine with you,” Ray informed while he stood behind him. “Yes, thank you for the information, Mr. Matthews." Micah acknowledged. A man about the age of fifty approached him. He wore a butler outfit: a starched black suit, crisp pants, and well-polished black boots. “Good morning, sir. I am Peter Roland at your service,” he said while performing a short bow. “May I take your luggage?” Micah raised a brow briefly, contemplating the offer. He certainly preferred to bring his stuff to his assigned room by himself, but then, after a few seconds, he nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Volkov. This way, please.” The butler gestured towards the main staircase and proceeded to drag the luggage. While they were walking to his room, Micah was amazed by everything he saw: the paintings on the wall and the high-hung chandeliers. He was amazed by all of the paintings, but there was one that really caught his attention. It was a painting of two men locked in an embrace, dressed in old Viking clothes, with the taller one of the two men's faces hidden from view. The shorter one had white hair, which looked so soft, and blue eyes. The taller man had brown hair, and his face was hidden under the neck of the other man. The more Micah stared at the picture, the more the blue-haired one started to look like him dressed in a costume. He suddenly had the greatest urge to touch the picture, so he walked closer to the painting and did what his mind wanted him to. The pictures he saw came in a flash. And he closed his eyes by reflex. A man smiled at another while the other crouched to pluck a flower. Another picture came of a dazzling blue necklace that was so bright that he was plunged into another picture. Two male and muscular bodies are moving as one in a bed. And he heard a groan. "Agner".... The pictures behind his eyelids moved to another where he saw a man with blue hair stirring some contents in a bowl while speaking some words lowly, which sounded like incantations?. The pictures moved to another where he saw men with swords and axes fighting in a field, and he saw an arrow sailing towards the man with blue hair. Then he opened his eyes with a gasp. Micah was staring at the painting after he opened his eyes, and he failed to catch the butler’s voice calling for him. “Mr Volkov? This is your room,” Sir Peter informed him. He stood some metres away from him, in front of a carved mahogany door. "Ah, yes, of course.” Micah cleared his throat, not really seeing anything after that ordeal he got. “I was admiring the paintings in the hallway, which took my focus away,” he said, walking closer to him with an apologetic face. “That’s fine, sir. You don’t need to explain,” Sir Peter replied with prompt understanding. He pushed the door open, and in they went. The room looked presentable. It had a modern interior with modern furniture. It looked like a studio, complete with a bedroom, a living room, and a dining area. The carpet was dark green. The walls and ceilings were ivory white. The queen-size bed and pillows had the same two-tone colour motif. The butler left him there to settle, and then Micah's mind went back to what he saw when he touched the painting. He wasn't sure if what he saw was hallucinations or memories, but whose?