The Observant Servant
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The Observant Servant
- Quest giver
- Iris
- Location
- North Horn (X:38.9, Y:38.8)
- Quest line
Records of Unusual Endeavors Quests
┗ The Occult Crescent Quests- Level
- 100
- Requirements
- Any Disciple of War or Magic (excluding limited jobs)
- Experience
0- Gil
1,195- Previous quest
- A Familiar Issue
- Next quest
- In the Shadow of the Tower
- Patch
- 7.55
- Links
- GT TC
It seems Iris has more to reveal.
— In-game description
Steps
- Speak with Iris in the phantom village.
- Speak with Iris again.
- Speak with Iris once more.
- Speak with Iris one last time.
Journal
- It seems Iris has more to reveal.
Related NPCs
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Dialogue
Does this mean the Archive was the architect all along? If that's the case, who's in the bleedin' tower?
I'm just as perplexed as the rest of you. Hopefully Iris deigns to shed more light on the matter...
Understand that I do not disobey my orders lightly...
I wish to speak further, away from the clamor of this camp. Pray meet me by the fountain in your “phantom village.”
Let's see what the faerie has to say.
What an arduous journey that was... I hope my aching back doesn't plague me during the discussions ahead.
Thank you for coming. You might be intrigued to hear that this place was modeled on a port town in my master's native Nym.
Perhaps that is why I feel so at peace here... I hate to make further demands, but might we at least enjoy the scenery while we talk?
I have no end of questions, but for now I shall listen.
My master was a revered Nymian scholar. Such was the depth and breadth of his learning, that to those around him, he was simply known as “the Archive.”
Fearing that the War of the Magi would bring the world to ruin, he crossed the seas to the Occult Crescent, intending to preserve even some small part of civilization from all-consuming destruction.
The Archive summoned me to keep a record of his project. My orders were simple: observe developments as they unfolded.
And thus I watched as you set about preserving all that you could, your respect and affection for mankind's endeavors never wavering...
When we first met Iris and I asked her why she was summoned, she said she didn't know. Maybe she felt revealin' the truth at that point would've jeopardized her role as silent observer...
So he—or, I, as it were—summoned her to document his, no, my endeavors... Oh, my poor noggin...
As work progressed, my master resolved to construct the Forked Towers and thereby protect the isle.
Initially, he himself oversaw their maintenance. I can still picture him now, ensconced in all that worldly knowledge, eyes glinting with satisfaction. Yet there was something else in that gaze—the faintest hint of loneliness.
One day I asked him whether he had ever used the dangerous knowledge locked within the towers...
Ah, there goes the seal again. I can remember my response clearly...
“I have...to near-terrible ends. Some knowledge is better left unproven.”
And you remained true to that belief, never again wielding the dread techniques you chose to preserve.
Eventually, you decided to give your wisdom physical form—an entity that might maintain the Forked Towers long after your eventual death.
Little did you know what that decision would manifest...
This is where we first found the Archive... Perhaps Iris'll tell us how he ended up in that sarcophagus of his.
Never before have I been fearful of what I might learn... Still, I must face the truth.
As you began to transfer your knowledge to the summoned form, you were seized by a flicker of doubt.
Preserving such precious scholarship without utilizing it, even once... Would that not be an utter waste? Or so you pondered for a brief moment.
The merest flicker was all it took for that sentiment to bleed into the incantation. By the time you realized, it was already too late...
Gushing font of knowledge, flow forth and take form!
But wait...
Were I to partake of this font, just the once......
No!
I am the Index. Knower of all things.
With the world's wisdom at my disposal, my power is unbounded!
Curses. My momentary lapse tainted the incantation! I must begin the ritual anew...
Good grief, what is this hideous form!? I-I ought to know...
I have placed a seal upon your knowledge, lest you attempt some foolish intervention!
I must not give in...
Aaagh!
Ye deserved, heed my call. Let not this knowledge be used for ill...
Though my instructions were clear, I could not bear to watch while your life hung in the balance.
And so I rushed to your aid... Though, in the end, there was little I could do.
The memories are flooding back... Filled with despair, barely clinging to life, I somehow made it here. To the sarcophagus.
My notion that I fled from overseas to quarantine must have stemmed from confusion—magically induced or otherwise.
All this time, shielded by blissful ignorance... 'Tis sobering to learn what I have wrought.
We near the end of my tale—I have but few memories left...
Well, we finally know who's waitin' atop the Tower of Magic...
My wretched shade calls himself the Index. He's nothing more than my conceit given tangible form...
As my master lay stricken and slumbering, the Index seized control of the Forked Towers.
With none to oppose him, he began to explore what futures might await the civilizations of the Fifth Astral Era.
You've all seen the results of that experiment... Wind roared, water surged, pestilence spread, and voidsent claimed the land.
In time, the South Horn will suffer the same fate. Plants will perish, all birdsong will cease... He would usher in everlasting decay.
I can't accept that future! This island was supposed to be a monument to mankind's thirst for knowledge, not some grim reminder of their folly.
Which is why I need your help!
What will you say?
Say no more!
I offer my help gladly, but what of your orders?
Thank you! I'm glad it was you who heeded my master's call.
Ah, of course... That voice you heard during your voyage must have been an echo of my desperate plea.
We have nothing to fear in that regard. After all, it was my master who called you here.
Ah, of course... That voice you heard during your voyage must have been an echo of my desperate plea.
Iris... For the last fifteen hundred years, you've upheld your lonely vigil.
Forgive me! Would that I had known I'd be condemning you to such a fate...
At least my watch wasn't in vain.
We're counting on you, Iris and I. You must find a way to the Tower of Magic and lay low the Index once and for all!
Thank you. Thank you!