The day after the premiere, I find myself in a whirlwind of meetings. Unlike Louis Bell, the representatives from other electronics companies actually watched "The Demonfather" and aren't being stingy about royalties for our camera patents.
It's amazing what a little color and a lot of talent can do to change perspectives.
But the real frenzy is around the film itself. Major distributors are clamoring to acquire the license, having seen how "The Demonfather" is exploding in popularity. We're only on the second day of screenings, and tickets are selling out faster than hellfire spreads.
I can barely believe it when I see the numbers: 4,000 dollars from ticket sales already, and that's after the festival takes its cut.
Now, every major demon studio, especially Demon Pictures - the same ones who rejected me before - are falling over themselves to convince me to sell them the distribution rights for the Morningstar Kingdom.
The irony isn't lost on me, but I push my feelings aside. This isn't about revenge; it's about what's best for Hellfire Studios.
Demon Pictures is offering a 30% share of the box office and an upfront payment of 1 million dollars. It's tempting, incredibly so. My team is practically begging me to accept it. But I'm not ready to commit just yet.
Underground Films is on the table with a 40% box office share and a 600,000 dollar upfront payment. It's not bad, but something about it doesn't sit right with me.
There's more offers from various demon studios, then there's Lava Brothers.
Their offer catches my eye: 70% of the box office and a 300,000 dollar upfront payment. The initial payment is lower, but that percentage... it's hard to ignore.
As I mull over the offers, I can't help but focus on Lava Brothers.
They're not as influential as Demon Pictures that's in the Big Three, but they're among the Little Five in the Morningstar Kingdom.
Their offer is intriguing, and I find myself wondering if I could push them a bit further. If they'd raise the upfront payment or bump the box office share to 73 or even 75 percent, I'd be hard-pressed to refuse.
It's a risk, no doubt. I can't be certain "The Demonfather" will be an overwhelming success. But my gut tells me the chances are high.
If we hit even just 10 million at the box office in the Morningstar Kingdom... well, the math speaks for itself. The potential earnings from those shares are staggering.
But it's not just the demon studios that have caught my attention.
The offers from human, dwarf, and elven studios are equally compelling. Bryan Brothers, a major human studio, is offering 3 million upfront with a 10 percent box office share.
Then there's Science Pictures with 2 million and 8 percent. The options seem endless, each with its own pros and cons.
As I weigh these offers, I can't help but marvel at how far we've come. From scraping together a film with salvaged equipment to fielding offers from major studios across multiple races... it's almost surreal.
But I can't let myself get carried away. Each of these deals could make or break Hellfire Studios. I need to think not just about the immediate payoff, but about our long-term future. Which deal will give us the best platform to build on this success?
I remind myself that there's no need to rush into a decision. I've got time to weigh my options carefully. It's a luxury I never thought I'd have, but one I'm determined to use wisely.
The day has been a whirlwind of meetings - film studios, electronics companies, all clamoring for a piece of the Demonfather pie. It's exhausting, but exhilarating.
When Louis Bell finally walks in, I can't help but smile at the change in his demeanor. Gone is the condescending businessman from yesterday. In his place is a man who's seen the light - or in this case, the color.
"Mr. Morningstar," he begins, his voice noticeably more respectful, "I've reconsidered our previous discussion. Impact Electronics would like to offer you a 15% royalty on the colored camera patents."
I raise an eyebrow, remembering his initial lowball offer of 4%. "That's quite a change of heart, Mr. Bell."
He has the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "Yes, well... after seeing your film, I realized I may have underestimated the potential of this technology."
I nod, keeping my expression neutral despite the satisfaction I feel. "I appreciate your candor. And I accept your offer."
Louis visibly relaxes, but I'm not done yet. "However, you should know that while other companies have offered 15% or lower, but with milestone payments and minimum guarantees. I hope Impact is prepared to be competitive in those areas as well."
He nods quickly. "Of course, of course. We can certainly discuss those details."
After we hammer out the patent licensing deal, Louis surprises me with another proposal. "Mr. Morningstar, Impact would also like to discuss the possibility of product placement in 'The Demonfather'. We'd be willing to pay for our brand to be featured in the film."
I can't help but chuckle. "You're not the first to make such a proposal, Mr. Bell," I say, thinking of the other companies who've approached me with similar ideas. "But I'm certainly willing to discuss it."
As Louis leaves, looking far more satisfied than when he arrived, I feel a wave of exhaustion wash over me. It's been a long day of negotiations and decisions.
I make my way back to my "humble home" - the studio that's become so much more than just a workspace. As I settle into my makeshift bed, surrounded by the tools of our trade, I can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment.
We've come so far, so fast. From a laughingstock to the belle of the ball, all because we dared to dream in color.
As I drift off to sleep, my mind is still buzzing with possibilities. Tomorrow brings more decisions, more negotiations. But for now, I'll allow myself this moment of satisfaction.
(Richie Robbins' POV)
As a demon priest of the Solarus Church branch here in the Morningstar Kingdom, I'm no stranger to prejudice. It's not just me - all demon followers of Solarus face the same discrimination. But what of it? These close-minded demons who look down on us have no real power over the followers of Solarus.
Let them try to harm even one of our members. They'll face the fury of the Solarus Religion and our Lord Solarus himself. It's a comforting thought, even in the face of daily sneers and whispers.
Today started like any other, tending to my priestly duties. But then I overhear something... unusual. A group of our choir demon orphans are huddled together, whispering excitedly:
"Did you guys watch The Demonfather? It was so good!"
"Yeah, Michael is so cool."
"But is it really right to admire such a film? I mean, it kind of disrespects our religion-"
"Shh!! Don't talk about it!"
I frown, stepping closer. "Is there anything I should know about, children?"
The orphans scatter like startled imps, their faces a picture of panic. One of them stammers, "Umm... Priest Robbins. It was nothing."
I raise an eyebrow, trying to keep my voice gentle but firm. "Thou shall not lie, my child. What is it?"
They exchange nervous glances before one reluctantly hands me a newspaper.
"What could this be?" I mutter, unfolding it. The most update n0vels are published on Nov3lFɪre.ɴet
The headline screams at me: "First Ever Colored Film is a Demon Film! Yet it was not only colored, it was also the best film I've seen!"
Confused, I start reading. What does this colored film have to do with our religion?
But as I read on, my confusion turns to dismay. One line in particular catches my eye: "As a demon critic - the best scene for me is the baptism scene. I love every scene of it, every disrespect to Solarus was both funny and exciting. It was so bold for the exiled prince to even include it."
My frown deepens as I study the black-and-white photo of Arthur Morningstar in what appears to be a baptism scene. Wait a minute...
"Isn't this the exiled prince who shot a film in our church a few weeks ago?" I ask, more to myself than the anxious orphans.
The pieces start falling into place, and a cold dread settles in my stomach. We allowed a film to be shot in our sacred space, and this is how they've used it? To mock our faith?