The metal clans of Redhill territory felt like their asses are on fire. They simply cannot settle in one place, and at any second, several of them are seen walking around, fidgeting. One would think they are anxious based on their body language, but if they look at the faces of these moon elves, something is sticking out like a nail's head. The corners of their lips are twitching and forming a faint arch. They are gleeful and excited.
These reactions may account for overacting, but it is considered nothing compared to the innocently exaggerated ones.
"Is everything prepared now? N-Nothing forgotten? Is everyone's clothes presentable? We can't afford to neglect a single detail here now! Our Moon Elf Lord is coming to our territory!" cried an old man with a burly body and ashen hair. He is standing tall in the crowd and has an intimidating aura about him because his face is covered with a scruffy beard. His name is Lacques, the former clan patriarch of the Feran clan.