The Resilient Mother bastion, that nomadic behemoth of stone and enchantment, had a rhythm.
It was not a ceaseless march through the wastes—rather, it paused like a weary traveler at crossroads, docking at fellow bastions for spans of days or weeks.
These halts served as breaths in the journey—opportunities for trade to flow like vital blood, for weary legs to stretch on solid ground, and for the exchange of tales that bridged the isolation of nomadic life.
Provisions were bartered, alliances whispered in shadowed taverns, and the near non-existent distortions of the land probed for safer paths ahead.
In this way, the Resilient Mother wove itself into the scattered strongholds of Myovernia, a thread that connected the unconnectable.
Not to mention, it would also strengthen the tie and position of the Mage Count with every bastion they visited knowing their inquisitive nature and power.
