The Little Prince - 2
Lucia Barton, the illustrator for The Little Prince, had been going through some tough times lately.
"A picture of a fox opening its arms wide, begging for a hug...?"
"Ahem, yes. The client promises generous compensation. And if you need support for your creative endeavors, unlimited sponsorship is on the table."
Wealthy patrons who craved deformed animal illustrations—specifically, pictures of talking foxes—were now demanding her artwork in exchange for sponsorships. And what they all wanted was simple: more fox pictures.
Sponsorship money in amounts she'd never dreamed of touching poured in.
"But I'm not even a real artist...?"
"Didn't you take on the illustrations for the novel The Little Prince?"
"Th-that was just because I got the chance to contribute to a work by an author I admire..."
The problem was that Lucia Barton wasn't a professional illustrator to begin with.
She'd enjoyed reading Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, entered a contest with it, and eagerly accepted the request to illustrate another work by the same author.
"I-I can't accept this kind of money... or take on commissions... I'm not that great an artist..."
"Please, do accept it. If continuing your work is too much, just the sponsorship for now would be fine."
She'd thought participating in the illustrations was just a fun, novel experience. So this flood of sponsorships and commissions felt overwhelmingly burdensome.
"I-I'll ask the author first!"
Lucia fled—to Kindersley Publishing, where it had all begun.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
When I visited the publishing house, President Dolling told me the illustrator was in a bind.
"I see."
"Yes! She seemed really troubled..."
Art had always been dominated by the wealthy: popes, nobles, royalty, merchants... And in this world, there was one more type of "rich folk."
"Those sponsors are beastkin, right?"
"They approached through agents, but... yes, probably."
Beastkin—also called half-human, half-beast—faced discrimination in the empire on every front. They couldn't enter parliament or hold titles. But that very discrimination forged tight-knit communities among them. Leveraging those bonds, they'd amassed fortunes in usury, mining, and the like.
Rich in gold but starved for honor. The kind who'd spare no expense to buy it with money. That was the beastkin.
"Does Illustrator Lucia have no intention of continuing her work at all?"
"Not that, but... she just drew as a hobby, and now with all this sponsorship pouring in, it's overwhelming her..."
"Ah. Hm. I get the beastkin's side too... Tricky."
Beastkin hands were too rough for fine art, and human artists scorned drawing beastkin for pay as dishonorable—even from those whose survival depended on their patronage. To the beastkin, a novice illustrator for The Little Prince must have seemed like prime prey. They'd pay a fortune to win her over.
I pondered for a moment, then spoke carefully.
"She said the sponsorships feel burdensome, right?"
"Yes."
"Then how about approaching it as a business instead?"
"Pardon?"
"Let's merchandise the characters."
"Merchandise the characters...?"
Character merchandising. The expansion of character IP that revolutionized the culture industry.
"President, you'd have to put in some work. Up for it?"
"I don't get it, but... of course! Anything to help you, author!"
The magic of turning art into money. I thought it might be a bit early, but... this would push literature one step further.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Various products emblazoned with The Little Prince characters were produced. The capital of award-worthy sponsors, the influence of The Little Prince, the illustrator's touch, and Dolling Kindersley's business acumen combined to get them on shelves across the empire in no time.
"Mom! Buy me that cup!"
"A cup? Oh, it has the Little Prince on it. How much?"
"One silver coin!"
"What? That's pricey... Hmm, but it'd make a nice decoration. One, please."
"Excellent choice!"
Buying Little Prince merchandise became the trend. Since each product featured different illustrations, collectors even started gathering them by type.
But the product that truly captured everyone's attention was something else.
"Buy bread, get a Little Prince illustration stamp!"
"What? For real?"
"Yes! Stamps with the fox, Little Prince, rose, and more illustrations included!"
"Whoa, one bread!"
Stamps.
Stamp collecting was already a major hobby, with dedicated philatelists. These weren't sold directly. Instead, you got a random one with purchases of packaged bread or cookies.
"All the bread!"
"S-sir, sorry, but Little Prince limited bread is four per customer."
"What? Why?"
"To prevent food waste. Your understanding, please."
Hobbyists, resellers, and Little Prince fans flooded in, sending stamp prices skyrocketing. Rare illustration stamps fetched gold at auctions.
"Sold out already?"
"Please, just one bread!"
The Little Prince ruled the empire.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"...Author, are you a genius? No, you are. What a silly question..."
"Uh, well. I didn't expect this level of popularity."
The character merchandise boom brought me, the original author, massive profits—surpassing even the imperial prince's sponsorship. And that was after shares to the illustrator, merchants, and President Dolling.
"Every day since meeting you has been a wonder."
President Dolling spoke in awe, but I was a bit worried. The hype around these products screamed bubble. When the fad faded, stamp prices would crash. And the resentment from losses would taint The Little Prince.
The most beloved fairy tale in history, stained by speculation. Not what I wanted.
"...President."
"Yes, author!"
"Let's do some good with this opportunity."
"...Pardon?"
The Little Prince deserved only to be loved.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Most orphanages in this world were run by priests. Religion filled the role of the social safety net.
"Wow, Father Director! What's all this? So much bread—and fancy packaged stuff too..."
"An anonymous brother donated it."
Love Mission Orphanage was one such place. Operating on church aid and donations, it was tight on funds, but renowned for the director's virtue and honest management.
And now, heaps of sundries and bread had been donated there.
"They asked us to collect the stamps from the wrappers instead of just donating the bread."
"Ah! This is that Little Prince bread trending in the capital?"
"The Little Prince... Thanks to that beautiful tale, we're receiving this help. A blessing."
"Hehe, yeah! The kids will love it... Really... Sniff..."
"Sister. Why cry on such a good day?"
"Just... so happy... I always felt bad giving the kids only hard black bread... Waaah..."
"Heh."
"Author Homerus... Forgive the blasphemy, but isn't he a saint chosen by the Lord...?"
"Who knows. Perhaps. He might have sent him for this land..."
Similar scenes unfolded across the empire.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Author..."
"Yes, President."
"May I praise you for a moment...?"
"No."
"You're a god!"
"That's blasphemy."
My proposal to President Dolling was simple: lift purchase limits on Little Prince limited merchandise for donations to orphanages, poorhouses, nursing homes—social welfare facilities.
Simple, but effective. Wealthy collectors gladly donated bread to orphanages for stamps.
"Not just bread—some even pledged ongoing support! All thanks to your idea!"
The empire had countless church-run welfare facilities, most struggling financially. In these faith-weakened times, finding sponsors was hard.
But The Little Prince changed that.
So much bread poured in that some orphanage kids got tummy aches from overeating.
"Some churches are even talking beatification for you!"
"No, I'm not even a priest..."
"That's how huge your impact is!"
President Dolling's fussing was still overwhelming. But somehow... it felt good.