My Taming System Makes Me Overpowered

Chapter 39: Clear the foyer

The furious, rhythmic thud of hooves reverberated through the saddle pommel, a breathless, bone-rattling vibration that pushed the limits of equine endurance. The horses weren’t breaking the sound barrier, but their hooves glowed with the faint, pulsing blue light of wind-acceleration runes stitched into their iron shoes. It was a brutal, unrelenting maximum gallop—a magically enhanced sprint designed to burn out the beasts’ stamina in exchange for raw, desperate velocity.

Vince kept his torso perfectly centered, adjusting his weight to match the violent sway of the elite rider behind him. His shackled wrists rested heavily against the horse’s mane, the cold iron rings chaffing his skin with every bound.

They crested the final mountain pass, clearing the dense bottleneck of the valley throat, and suddenly, the suffocating enclosure of the wild forest gave way to a staggering expanse of open air.

System. Environmental Mapping Matrix. Wide sweep.

Vince didn’t just look at the capital; his mind systematically dissected it.

The Ancestral Core Canopy hit his senses with a wall of sheer, vertical scale. Towering into the clouds were world trees of a completely different epoch—colossal white-barked monoliths with trunks the size of mountain ridges, their root systems weaving into massive, natural foundations that stretched for miles across the valley floor.

Through his physical eyes, he saw a civilization grown, not built. Entire residential sectors were sculpted directly into the living wood of the lower branches, the architecture curving gracefully with the natural flow of the trees. Suspension bridges made of tightly woven, glowing green vines stretched across the dizzying chasms between trunks, carrying streams of robed citizens.

But behind his eyelids, the purple grid of his mapping matrix lit up in a blinding, high-frequency display. The city was a living, breathing circuit board. Thousands of distinct, swirling mana cores walked the streets, their magical heat signatures color-coding the population by tier. Overhead, an interlocking web of massive, ancient defense wards hummed in perfect, terrifying harmony, casting a faint violet and gold grid across the sky.

Impressive structural design, Vince analyzed, his eyes narrowing beneath his messy hair as he memorized the primary choke points. The entire city is a magical fortress. Infiltrating this normally would have taken weeks of calculating ward cycles. And even then the odds or a successful infiltration would still be low.

The three white horses didn’t slow down as they entered the outer ring. The citizens on the vine-bridges scattered, drawing back in hushed, murmuring surprise at the sight of an elite vanguard escort dragging a hooded figure in heavy chains.

Within minutes, the riders pulled up to the base of the central world tree—a colossal trunk that housed the High Court. The grand entrance was carved entirely out of gleaming white stone roots, flanked by royal paladins in heavy gold-accented plate armor.

The vanguard guards practically threw themselves off their mounts, dragging Vince down by the chain of his shackles. His leather boots hit the polished white floor with a heavy thud.

"Move! Quick step!" the lead guard hissed, shoving Vince forward into the grand foyer.

The interior was magnificent, columns of living wood arching into a vaulted ceiling that leaked soft, ambient starlight. But the atmosphere was thick with suffocating political tension. At the far end of the foyer, a pair of massive, ironwood doors stood firmly shut, guarded by a double line of elite royal paladins holding glowing halberds.

"Stand down," the lead paladin commanded, stepping forward to block their path. "A closed-door emergency council session with Her Majesty and the High Elders is currently in session. No one is allowed entry ."

"This is an absolute priority emergency!" the vanguard captain argued, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he stepped forward, gesturing aggressively toward Vince. "We have a critical security breach at the border lines. We have a magicless—"

"I do not care if the sky is falling," the paladin interrupted, his voice dropping into a flat, unyielding registe88r. "Her Majesty is currently addressing the northern provincial deficits. No matter how urgent you claim your news to be, you do not interrupt a royal session. Clear the foyer."

The vanguard captain’s jaw tightened. He looked at the sealed ironwood doors, then down at Vince’s rounded ears, realizing the bureaucracy of the court was actively bleeding their precious timeline. He couldn’t afford to wait for the Queen to finish a fiscal debate.

The captain turned sharply to one of the attendant scribes standing near the wall. "Where is Elder Everwood? Is he inside the chambers?"

"Elder Everwood excused himself from the opening session twenty minutes ago," the scribe replied quickly, glancing nervously at Vince’s shackles. "He is currently reviewing the provincial border ledgers in his private quarters, down the western gallery."

"This way!," the captain muttered to his men, grabbing Vince’s chain. "Move."

They marched Vince away from the grand doors, their boots clicking sharply against the polished wooden floorboards of the western gallery. The bustling noise of the main foyer slowly faded, replaced by a heavy, quiet solitude as they navigated the high-ceilinged corridors of the inner court. The walls here were unadorned, crafted from ancient, dense wood that seemed to absorb sound entirely.

At the very end of the gallery stood a simple, unmarked door of dark cedar.

The vanguard captain didn’t knock. He pushed the door open, the heavy wood swinging back on silent hinges to reveal an austere, dimly lit study. The room was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves packed with ancient parchment scrolls. At the far side of the room, standing completely motionless before a massive, arched window that overlooked the glowing canopy of the capital, was a tall, imposing figure.

He wore deep emerald robes that flowed seamlessly to the floor, his long silver hair tied neatly back. He didn’t turn around when the doors burst open. He didn’t even shift his weight.

Instead, a cold, smooth voice cut through the quiet room, carrying an edge of sharp, aristocratic authority that immediately caused the vanguard guards to stiffen.

"What business brings you to my chambers?" Everwood asked.