While his subordinates were busy, Tyrion curiously eyed the white steel ball in Jon's hand.
"Jon, what treasure is this now?"
All the novelties he had seen since this morning had been a real eye-opener for Tyrion. It turned out magic had developed so many wonderful uses without him realizing it. No, it should be called Divine Grace now.
Jon stared intently at the Eye of Warning in his hand. Only when he saw no abnormal reaction did he relax slightly and reply.
"Lord Tyrion, this is called the Eye of Warning, a new invention from the Research Department. Once activated, it can see the entire boundary of the grid. Anything that crosses the boundary will trigger its reaction and record an image of that thing."
Jon rubbed the Eye of Warning. "Most of the time, that 'thing' is a person, our target."
Although this was the first time it was put to use and they had only had it for two days, Jon and the soldiers had practiced many times, simulating actions after the Eye of Warning issued an alarm and capturing suspicious individuals, all to ensure nothing went wrong.
Despite this, Jon sincerely hoped everything would remain peaceful and that swords wouldn't be needed.
"What a treasure," Tyrion exclaimed in admiration. "Qyburn is quite capable, isn't he? How long has it been, and he's already produced so many results? Not simple."
Tyrion always felt that this Eye of Warning thing could have even greater uses, not just for watching the front door.
Jon chuckled softly. "That's right. The Research Department's reputation has already spread throughout King's Landing, and it's even become a terrifying legend used to scare children."
Due to escorting criminals to Qyburn's place multiple times, Jon had a relatively good understanding of the Research Department.
He knew that the Research Department did have many projects that required personnel cooperation, but most were very safe and usually wouldn't cause problems.
However, for some reason, the rumors outside were spreading more fiercely. Some people even believed that Qyburn ate human hearts raw every day and concocted longevity potions from infants and brains to please nobles.
But thanks to Qyburn, King's Landing had been much more peaceful recently, and Jon's patrols were much easier.
Under Qyburn's fearsome reputation, habitual offenders no longer dared to commit crimes, fearing that if they were caught again, they wouldn't go to prison but would be sent to the Research Department to be tortured to death.
Jon could only feel envy about this.
He was still just an unknown junior officer, while Qyburn, who had been expelled from The Citadel, was already in charge of a department, deeply trusted by His Majesty, and had created so many miraculous things.
Undoubtedly, Qyburn's name would definitely be in future historical records.
Renly's rebellion. Jon knew this was his best opportunity to fight a good battle and let Robb know about it even in Winterfell.
Winterfell. Jon could hardly remember what it looked like anymore. Fortunately, his father's appearance was still clear.
His father had returned to The North and would be defending against the Wildlings and the gradually awakening Others. That must be a difficult and glorious war as well. He hoped everyone would be safe.
Although he missed everyone in The North, Jon didn't regret it. It was irreversible now; his place was here.
"Jon, it seems we're falling behind," Tyrion sighed, looking at his Divine Grace Light Screen.
Jon also looked at his Light Screen. Grid 601 in the south of the city had turned white. Checked, that was fast!
Jon looked around at other parts of the city and found that the other six teams were similar to his own, still staying in the first grid. Fortunately, there were no warning signals.
Jon knew that the leader of the fastest team, the Sixth Team, was The Hound, his current Commander.
Tyrion appeared very calm. "Your Commander Sandor is really impatient. I wonder if the check was thorough enough."
Each team was responsible for a full hundred grids; there was still a lot to do today.
"Never mind, Jon, let's go take a look too. Let's not be the slowest team." Tyrion still took his short legs and walked into the luxurious hotel in front of him.
This was the last checkpoint in Grid 201.
Fortunately, so far, the inspection work of the Second Investigation Team, which Tyrion was in charge of, had gone very smoothly, without encountering any notable resistance or opposition.
The planning beforehand was very thorough.
The small teams blocking the grid and the intelligence personnel within the team were responsible for collecting information on the people within the grid.
The team simultaneously checked shops, factories, land, subordinate contracts, valuable items, and everything else of value, clarifying their ownership and tracing them back to the earliest verifiable source to determine if they were reasonable and legal.
The judge, of course, was Tyrion himself.
And this hotel was no exception; everything planned was happening inside.
Unfortunately, the owner of this hotel was not present, so several servants and the steward took the place of the boss and were being strictly questioned by the clerks, repeatedly recounting everything they knew.
Even soldiers directly entered every room, searched for all papers, letters, and valuables, and demanded on-site claims and explanations for their origin, otherwise they would be treated as ownerless property.
People felt this was simply robbery.
Fortunately, these bandits had a little conscience and gave everyone a chance to persuade them to return their wealth. As long as the reason was appropriate and the evidence sufficient, there was hope of getting their things back.
And among these bandits, there were even quite a few monks and septas. They claimed this was to cleanse the filth from people's hearts, to completely remove Renly's assassins and the like from King's Landing, and to restore cleanliness and peace to the holy place.
After getting back everything that belonged to them, people silently accepted this explanation.
The Gods had already shown their power, and such a terrible tragedy still happened in the Great Sept of Baelor. It was no wonder there was such a big commotion.
After all, it was for the Gods, so a little trouble was acceptable. People thought this way.
But finally, someone chose to resist. The reason was simple: his wealth had not been returned. People cast sympathetic glances at him and then stood by and watched.
"What's wrong? Who's making a fuss?" a loud voice demanded.
The crowd made way for the owner of the voice. Tyrion slowly walked over, examining the white-haired middle-aged man in front of him.
"What are you trying to do?" Tyrion seemed very confused.
The white-haired man was filled with anger. "Respected Lord, I have obeyed all the laws of Westeros. Why are you confiscating the gold coins in my room?"
Tyrion glanced at his subordinate, and the clerk immediately leaned in to whisper an explanation.
The white-haired man was emotional, "Those are all things I saved for my clients. Allow me to remind you, my lord, my clients are all upright gentlemen, important figures in King's Landing!"
Tyrion looked around. The room was luxurious and exquisite, "You are a moneylender?"
The white-haired man nodded, righteous and confident.
Tyrion chuckled twice, "Arrest him!"
Before the white-haired man could react, two Gold Cloaks immediately stepped forward and pinned him down.
Tyrion surveyed the crowd and announced loudly, "His Majesty has clearly issued a decree that any private lending or fundraising is considered illegal."
"I ask you, did you get permission from the Royal Family?"
A decree? When did this happen? Just as the white-haired man wanted to argue, the two Gold Cloaks behind him twisted forcefully. The severe pain in his shoulder blades only allowed him to let out meaningless wails.
"Regardless of whose money this is, it is now illegal funds and must naturally be collected as evidence of a crime."
"Are you perhaps still in the right?"
A small interlude, Tyrion waved his hand to end it, "Take him away, and wrap it up."
The grid check was completed, everything went smoothly.
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