드래곤빌리지 컬렉션

Knave

Egg

This egg has a hat that jingles.

Those who linger near this egg feel a strange mix of unease and curiosity.

Hatch

This hatch learns early how to survive through mischief and wit.

He practices tricks to distract larger dragons and slips into shadows to stay unseen. Even before he can fly, it learns that quick thinking and cleverness can protect him better than strength in the demon realm.

Hatchling

This hatchling plays the fool to stay alive among stronger dragons.

He entertains those who would try to harm it, using jokes and illusions to win their favor. Behind every trick he performs is careful planning, as he learns how to read the moods of powerful rulers and sway the situation in his favor.

Adult

Once Knave becomes an adult, he masters the art of survival through deception.

Born in the demon realm, he is not strong enough to fend off the dragons constantly at war, so he has spent his life learning to perform tricks to keep other dragons entertained. He hides his intelligence beneath humor and spectacle. Every performance is a calculation, every laugh a shield, and every trick a step toward living another day in a realm where even the powerful can fall.

He can remove the three orbs located on his hands and bow-tie and juggle with them.  They also keep watch for anyone who may attack him during his performance.

He can curl his tail and bounce on it like a spring, giving him the look of a jack-in-the-box.

Story

Knave leaned against a cold pillar backstage, claws absently flicking one of the gold bells on his hat. Across the chamber, servants hurried back and forth, polishing the floor and setting the grand dais for the coming performance.

“Enjoying the calm before your performance, jester?” asked one of the servants.

“Calm?” Knave grinned, his golden teeth glinting. “It’s only calm to those who don’t know how many knives are hidden in the crowd.” He curled his tail into a coil and balanced on it, pretending to dodge invisible blades. The bandages wrapped around his limbs, and many mended patches on his hat and coat, suggested there were times he hadn’t been quick enough.

The servant gave a short chuckle. “You’ll need more than jokes tonight. Haven’t you heard? The throne has changed hands.”

Knave stopped mid-sway. “Changed…hands?”

“Malcartis is gone. Meteora calls herself Demon Dragon King now.”

His grin faded. He had spent years earning Malcartis’s favor, and now worried what might happen if he failed to amuse the new court. Then he laughed, though there was no joy in it. “Ah, I suppose that is to be expected around here.”

“She will be here soon. I’d make it a good one, jester. Her mood is…unpredictable,” the servant said as he slipped away into the darkened halls.

~

The great hall fell into a heavy silence when Meteora entered. Crimson feathers shimmered like liquid fire, and her gaze swept across the chamber with calm authority. The air itself seemed to bow to her presence.

Knave stepped into the spotlight, bells chiming with each theatrical stride. He swept into a deep bow. “Your Majesty, your humble fool welcomes you to your throne.”

Meteora’s eyes narrowed, but she did not respond.

Knave began with what he knew best. A swirl of cards spun through the air in a smooth spiral, shifting shape before landing in his waiting claws. He moved on to juggling, using the scarlet orbs set into his hands and tie. Pretending to trip, he let them tumble, and they transformed into blooming roses that floated neatly into his hands. He lifted one to his snout to smell it, then tossed them into the air, where they burst into fire and vanished into smoke. The court offered polite applause, but Meteora’s gaze drifted, her interest already fading.

Knave noticed the change in her demeanor and, for the briefest moment, he felt a moment of unease. He had performed for many dragons who would see him dead if he failed at entertaining them, though, and he knew when to change course. With a sharp snap of his claws, the hall went dark.

Shadows rippled across the chamber walls as Knave’s voice shifted into the tone of an old storyteller. With a sweep of his claws, he shaped the darkness itself into a puppet show, figures twisting and moving across the stone walls like living memories. “In the beginning, the demon realm was nothing but chaos,” he said. The shapes swirled and clashed, forming a storm of dragons locked in endless battle. “Claws and flame decided who ruled. Many rose to power, and many fell.”

The shadows changed again, merging into one massive figure. A puppet shaped like Malcartis appeared, roaring as it crushed smaller dragons beneath its feet. “Brutish tyrants ruled our lands. Those were dark times for us indeed.”

Another figure appeared, a smaller shadow shaped like Magnas, clutching a crown as he fled from the towering shadow of his father. The audience chuckled, and Knave caught the faintest smile on Meteora’s face.

The scene shifted once more. From above, a new shadow took shape, slender and elegant, with long wings stretching across the wall like flowing blood. “But brute strength cannot rule forever,” Knave said. “Not when a mind sharper than any claw waits for its moment to strike.”

The shadow version of Meteora spread her wings wide, swallowing Malcartis in a swirl of crimson light, as the other shadow dragons turned their adoring gaze toward her. “A feathered flame,” Knave’s voice echoed, “soft as silk, yet strong enough to unmake a king.”

Meteora leaned forward on the throne, eyes shining with delight, as she watched her shadow claim the crown.

When the lights returned, Knave bowed deeply once more. The audience broke in applause and whispers, some impressed, others uneasy.

Meteora smirked. “Perhaps there will be a place for you here, jester,” she said, twirling her crown between her claws.

Knave’s grin returned, sharp and unreadable. “My sincerest thanks, my Queen.”

And deep within, beneath the bells and golden smile, he wondered how long this throne would remain.