Dragon Urn
The old man straightened up and massaged his aching hips with his free hand while he continued to play with the huge magnifying glass with his other hand. He had a blank expression on his face as he continued to gaze at and study the piece on his table.
“Well, what do you think sir?” The artisan asked the old man.
The old man just nodded but continued to study the piece occasionally raising the magnifier and bending a little to scrutinize the minute inscriptions in different texts. Some are written Chinese, some in Hebrew, others in ancient European Runes and others still in a little known writing system called “Baybayin”. He eventually grunted in satisfaction and faced the artist.
“It’s Ok, this should do. So, how much?”
The old man’s expression and words did not sit well with the artist. It seemed to him the old man saw his work as mediocre; even if it is one of the most complicated sculptures, he had ever done the entire 65 years he spent as a metal artist. He would make the old man pay.
“Uhm, you see, the tiny symbols could not be easily achieved through casting, the surface was actually hand carved by myself and several assistants consuming many man-hours… you see, and it had to be checked and rechecked, and….”
“Cut the crap, I said money is not a problem. Just give me the damned price!” The old billionaire said with a hint of irritation in his voice. “Don’t waste any more of my time with your blabbering or I’ll be forced to throw you out the window.”
The artist glanced at the street forty-five storeys below, the vehicles seemingly no bigger than ants and then at the exercise equipment and assorted hand to hand weapons and trophies lining the walls of the spacious office and eventually at the old billionaire. Despite being wrinkled and a little bent, he still looked amazingly fit as a fiddle, and there is no doubt can make good with his threat. If that was not enough, there were the two gigantic baboons standing outside the door. After a moment’s hesitation and involuntarily swallowing the imaginary lump that formed in his throat, he quoted a price and braced himself. The outrageous price could still force the old billionaire to throw him out the window.
“Uhm… three hundred thousand….”
“Dollars or Euros?” The old man replied in an intimidating manner by thrusting his wrinkled face inches from the artist’s face.
“Dollars sir.” The artist replied he did not want to push his luck any further. There are unsubstantiated rumors that this old shrewd business tycoon has killed countless business and political rivals, as well as people who simply pissed him off, with just his bare hands. The artist thought that based on the personality he has seen, those rumors could be closer to the truth than everyone wants to believe.
“Great, now let’s get this over with.” The old man said as he turned to his huge ironwood desk and wrote a cheque. “Here, I gave you some extra cash, bonus for your assistants, don’t you ever let me hear that the money didn’t reach them or else…” The old man said before letting go of the cheque.
Trembling, the artist bowed low. “Don’t worry sir, I will give it to them, I will even add a little from my own profit. Thank you sir, I will be leaving now.” He placed the cheque inside his messenger bag and after bowing once more and saying more thanks he turned and headed for the door. Before he could turn the ornately carved knob though (another one of his creations), the voice of the old man stopped him.
“Lung!”
He slowly turned and faced the old man fearing he had done something to offend the old man. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the old demon smiling. “Yes sir?”
