<h4>Chapter 42: The Demonfather positive effect to kingdom''s economy</h4>


    (Arthur POV)


    Two days and a small forter, I found myself buried under a mountain of photographs. I''d sent out a small army of photographers to capture every unused arena and theater in the city. Now, surrounded by their work, I was beginning to wonder if I''d bitten off more than I could chew.


    Most of the options were... less than ideal, to put it mildly. Some were too small, barely able to fit a decent-sized set, let alone all the equipment we''d need. Others were in such a state of disrepair that renovating them would cost more than building from scratch. A few were architecturally impressive butpletely impractical for our needs - all style and no substance, like a pompous noble with an empty head.


    I tossed aside another stack of photos with a sigh. This was starting to feel like a wild goose chase.


    But then, buried beneath a pile of disappointing prospects, I found it. An arena just on the outskirts of the cheap district, not far from where we were now. It was massive, with sweeping arches and enough space to build a small vige inside. The structure was sound, if a bit weathered. It was perfect.


    Curious, I dug deeper into its history. Turns out, this ce used to be quite famous back in the day. The magazines had covered it extensively - not for its grand battles or spectacr events, but for its... specter residents.


    That''s right. The ce was supposedly haunted.


    I couldn''t help butugh. Even demons, creatures of darkness and chaos, were spooked by a few measly ghosts.


    But their loss was my gain. Because of its spooky reputation, the arena was going for a mere 200,000 dors. Compared to the other options, which were selling for upwards of half a million or more, it was a steal.


    My mind made up, I gathered the crew to share the news. "Ladies, gentlemen, and assorted creatures of the night," I announced, holding up the photo of our soon-to-be studio space, "I give you the newest addition to Hellfire Studios!"


    The reactions were... mixed, to say the least. There was excitement, sure, but also more than a few nervous nces and muttered concerns about restless spirits.


    I waved off their worries. "Ghosts, demons, what''s the difference? We''re making movie here. A few spooks will just add to the ambiance."


    And so, with a mixture of excitement and trepidation, we set off to im our new domain.


    Standing before the arena, I had to admit, the ce had a certain gloomy charm. A chill ran down my spine as we approached, but I shrugged it off with a grin. "Look on the bright side," I quipped to no one in particr, "free air conditioning."


    As we stepped inside, the sheer scale of the ce took our breath away. Massive stone arches soared overhead, and the arena floor stretched out before us like a nk canvas, just waiting for our creative touch.


    Sure, there were cobwebs in the corners and the air was thick with dust and who-knows-what-else. But all I could see was potential.


    Standing in the middle of our newly acquired arena, I couldn''t help but grin. Sure, it looked like a disaster zone now, but in my mind''s eye, I could already see the transformation.


    The ce was a mess, no doubt about it, but I could see its potential. The renovation would be a massive undertaking - we''re talking millions of dors and at least two months of work, if we''re lucky. But it would be worth it.


    This studio wouldn''t just be for "The Good, The Bad, The Ugly." No, I had much bigger ns. The beauty of this space would be its flexibility. In this world of magic, we had opportunities that filmmakers in my past life could only dream of.


    I''d already acquired the architectural designs from the system, and they were something else. We''re talking about a studio equipped with magical enhancements that would make even the most advanced CGI look like child''s y.


    Illusion artifacts could create any backdrop we needed, changing our sets in the blink of an eye. With these, we could conjure up entirendscapes - water, mountains, sky, forests - all with the flick of a switch.


    For scenes that require a sky, we use the open arena to take advantage of the natural backdrop. If the scene needs to be set during a specific time, like day or night, that doesn''t match the current conditions, we can easily adjust it. But for everything else - distantndscapes, fantastical environments, or even just to extend our sets beyond the physical constraints of the arena.


    There was a catch, of course. There''s always a catch.


    The illusions, impressive as they were, had their limitations. We''d need to carefully match the physical ground to the illusory backgrounds, a task that would require no small amount of skill and resources. And then there were the magic cores that powered these artifacts. Those didn''te cheap. In fact, they were downright expensive.


    I grimaced, mentally tallying up the costs. The initial renovation was just the beginning. Maintaining this technological marvel would be an ongoing drain on our resources. We''d be burning through magic cores like there was no tomorrow, each one eating into our bottom line.


    No other studio - human, elven, or dwarven - would risk this much. They were content with their painted backdrops and practical effects. But then again, they were still thinking in ck and white. We were moving into color, and that changed everything.


    At the same time, maybe I needed to put "The Good, The Bad, The Ugly" on hold for now. With the studio under renovation, it might be smarter to focus on a project we could film without these fancy new facilities.


    I found myself scrolling through the Entertainment Shop, looking for stories. We needed something that would keep us in the public eye and, more importantly, keep the money flowing while we waited for our magical studio to be ready. Something that wouldn''t require the expensive illusions we were investing in.


    ***


    (Lucy Morningstar POV)


    Being the eldest princess of the royal Morningstar familyes with its fair share of responsibilities. Between my duties overseeing tourism and economic development and my studies at the University of Wizardry, I barely have time to breathe. But I manage. I have to.


    Lately, my work has been particrly challenging. Our kingdom''s economy has been in decline, and tourism numbers have been dropping faster than a stone imp in a flying contest. It''s been one headache after another.


    So when Lord Vermilion, my chief economic advisor, burst into my study with an unusually chipper expression, I was immediately suspicious.


    "Your Highness," he said, practically bouncing on his toes, "I have some rather surprising news."


    I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Don''t keep me in suspense, Vermilion."


    He cleared his throat, clearly relishing the moment. "We''ve seen a rare increase in both tourism and economic investment in the kingdom. It seems we have some new... admirers."


    Now he had my full attention. "Admirers? What do you mean?"


    Lady Crimson, my head of tourism development, stepped forward. "It appears to be rted to a film, Your Highness. ''The Demonfather,'' I believe it''s called."


    I frowned. Between my studies and my duties, I''d been rather out of the loop. "The Demonfather?" I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.


    Lord Azura, one of my younger advisors, couldn''t contain himself. "You haven''t heard of it, Your Highness? It''s a masterpiece! The best film I''ve ever—" He caught himself, shrinking back. "Apologies, I got carried away. I''m... somewhat of a fan."


    His enthusiasm piqued my curiosity. "No need to apologize, Azura. Tell me more about this film. What''s it about?"


    Lady Crimson cleared her throat. "Perhaps more pertinently, Your Highness, you might be interested to know who made it."


    I turned to her, intrigued. "Oh? Is it someone I know?"


    "In a manner of speaking," she said carefully. "It was made by your brother."


    My mind immediately went to Bobby and his endless self-aggrandizing projects. "Bobby''s made a good film? That''s... unexpected."


    "Not Bobby, Your Highness," Lord Vermilion corrected gently. "It was made by the exiled prince. Arthur."


    "Arthur?!" I couldn''t keep the shock from my voice. My little brother, the one we''d all written off as a failure, had made a film? And not just any film, but one sessful enough to impact our kingdom''s economy?