As Reila predicted, the others didn't flat out leave the village without them. Although Lorelei had that look that she would have been perfectly content without them. To love one person, and not even be registered in that person's eyes, a cruel fate Nikolaus found himself in, or so his older brother Ramsey would relentlessly tease him. If there was a will there was a way, in some far off place, but this Clavat was not going to give up. If she would register him and be on her way that would be enough for him, as long as she was happy.

"We're going to head to Mt. Kilanda," Lorelei announced disrupting Nikolaus' fantasy as it were, as she steered the cart down the path towards the Jegon. Nikolaus nearly had to run to keep within the protective aura of the crystal, he could have ridden in the caravan as were the others, but someone needed to be a scout, at least he believed himself to be useful in that department.

"Why Mt. Kilanda?"

"Because the other myrrh trees on the peninsula are out of season, and according to Roland it has been a fair amount of time since another caravan went to the volcano. Meaning it should be fine. Why do you care?" Ouch, her tone was scathing against his ears; he could feel his skin even crawl with such venom.

"Because of Mog-" and with that Lorelei gave a quick flick of the reins and was long out of his reach. Fortunately they were within the protective barrier of the port's crystal. Yeah, he probably should have something, anything besides the moogle. But that was where his first thought led him, last time they attempted to claim the mountain it didn't go over as smoothly as planned. They succeeded, but not entirely unscathed…plenty of burns to go around. He held Mog close to him, his fingers tracing a small patch of burned skin that didn't quite heal properly.

"Kupo?"

"It's fine, I'm fine Mog," Nikolaus responded with a smile releasing the moogle as he secured his weapons on his form going into a sprint to reach the harbor.

"Glad to see you made it, Niko, Mog," Stiltzkin spoke as the duo entered the scene. De Nylph was waterproofing the gear they were going to bring to Mt. Kilanda, to survive the trip there and back. Merchant that he was, De Nylph was probably the most apt of the lot for sailing, his family originated in Leuda, so he pretty much grew up around the ocean and knew her moods even better the Tristan sometimes; one of the many things the Selkie prided himself with. Reila was working her alchemic prowess on a few of their supplies, adding to the number and covering up where water proofing alone wasn't enough. Alchemy, magic, Reila was a vast wealth of knowledge in those categories and many more; learning what she could from the Marr's Pass caravan about monsters and trading letters with her Uncle Amidatty on a regular basis. Then there was the leader herself, standing tall against the ocean's breeze, practicing with her weapon and keeping an eye out for dangers, always alert, and ready to strike at a moment's notice. Her moves were graceful and practical making the Clavat's heart swell at just witnessing her. Finally, rounding off the group was just Nikolaus.

"Sorry, I didn't think I was keeping anyone waiting," he spoke sheepishly with a small smile.

"Nonsense, Tristan has been running a little late with the ferry. So how goes the journey?"

"Well we just started right guys," a small choir of agreement. "Planning for Mt. Kilanda, first; and see where the journey will go from there; may as well tackle the hardest one first to make the journey a little easier pace at the end of it," Nikolaus explained.

"That and you can't help but wonder at all the treasure and materials you find in the mountain. Ha, may as well get the best now, to send on home before we end up having to sell off the good stuff to make ends meet," De Nylph spoke triumphantly finishing his preparation.

"Well put, De Nylph," Reila agreed, causing the Selkie to have a slight blush to his cheeks. Their families certainly benefitted from each other it was only natural that they would have similar thoughts on the matter, even though if one was for research and the other profit.

"Since we still do have some time, I'm going to go trim Mog up before we head out," Nikolaus announced turning his back from the group.

"Looks like a favorable wind is blowing," De Nylph reported looked over the ocean, catching a small speck against the water. "Tristan will probably be here soon. Don't dawdle now," he ended in a sing-song type of voice.

"Give me twenty minutes and were set."

"You got ten," Lorelei corrected.

"Right then, let's go Mog," Nikolaus spoke as he ran back up the slope towards the moogle house.

"Kupo!"

Nikolaus rapped his knuckles against the door, wiping off the dust as the moogle waddled to answer the door.

"Good day, mind if I use some of your supplies to trim up Mog," Nikolaus asked politely as the moogle went back to the chair.

"Go right ahead, there are some scissors on the dresser," he replied before he went back to his nap, not the least bit miffed to have been interrupted. So why couldn't Lorelei be that…understanding? Nikolaus shook his head as he spied the scissors and watched Mog flutter towards the fireplace for better lighting.

"Alright ten minutes and we're set."

One Hour and Ten Minutes Later

"Wow, kupo, I feel a lot cooler," Mog spoke fluttering around happily. "Shouldn't we head back to the others?"

"I can't feel my fingers," Nikolaus breathed defeated. He glanced at his hands, the indention of the scissors apparent in both of them, he tried to clutch his fingers, which only made him wince as the scissors cluttered to the ground. Never before has he hated scissors so passionately, as he glared at the little devils on the ground. He was a tailor's son; trimming, sewing, patching, quilting, the whole kit and caboodle for the majority of his life. The aches and pricks from all that experience felt like nothing compared to this; his fingers were rubbed raw from the scissors, blistered and callused at the same time, how was that even possible?

"My, my, that always happens to newcomers when it comes to the proper means of grooming us moogles. Although I say your hands look better than most, use to this sort of work," the moogle asked simply pushing off from his chair as he went to rummage through a nearby drawer.

"Kind of, I'm from a family of tailors," Nikolaus spoke gritting his teeth when he tried to flex his fingers again. He blew on them softly to ease the pain away.

"Ah, I figured it was something like that, no wonder those scissors weren't the best for you, but it was all I had," he responded as though that would make all the difference. Nikolaus smiled a little all the same, for courtesy sake. "This ointment will help with that," he added with the tube in question in his mouth. Nikolaus knelt down as the moogle placed it in his hands; his whiskers tickled and made him grimace again. "You may need to help him out," the moogle spoke towards Mog, who came over and gently squeezed the tube, as Nikolaus carefully rubbed the ointment on his hands. "You can keep that if you like," the moogle finished as he went back to his chair and napping.

"Thanks," he answered, blowing his fingers once more with the ointment to cool them down as he left the moogle house with Mog in tow.

He really had hoped what greeted him, wasn't what was going to greet him, but he had to admit it wasn't entirely unexpected. Nikolaus stood in the sand looking over to the port. There was no Tristan, and no one else from the group. He hung his head, a small smile placed on his lips all the same.

"I kind of figured this was going to happen," he spoke aloud.

"Sorry, kupo."

"No it's not your fault it happens."

"There you are Niko," Stiltzkin spoke as he approached from his own camp. Nikolaus bowed his head, and saw that Popo and the rest of their gear was left behind. "I have a letter for you, from Reila," he announced. He took a look at his hands and then Mog came over to unravel the letter.

"Sorry, Niko, but Tristan arrived and Laurel was insistent that we press ahead before another caravan took the ferry. De Nylph gives his best, and we shall see you again upon our return." The letter was brief and to the point, but still held that Reila flare as it were with the handwriting.

"Looks like we just have to wait."

"Looks like it, kupo."