Sherlock & Co. - The Greek Interpreter - Part Three

Episode Date: June 2, 2026

WHAT HAPPENS IN MYKONOS STAYS IN MYKONOS - We had all made a promise, as a group, that there would be no case. We believed that we wanted a holiday more than anything. We believed that. Until we didn't. Cases are just too fun, sorry. Part 3 of 5 This episode contains swearing, references to drugs, violence and suffering, abductionListener discretion is advised. A new clothing store has opened: www.sherlockwear.com For merchandise and transcripts go to: www.sherlockandco.co.uk For ad-free, early access to adventures in full go to www.patreon.com/sherlockandco To get in touch via email: [e-mail] Follow me @DocJWatsonMD on twitter and BlueSky, or sherlockandcopod on TikTok, instagram and YouTube.  This podcast is property of Goalhanger Podcasts. Copyright 2026. SHERLOCK AND CO. Based on the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Paul Waggott as Dr. John Watson Harry Attwell as Sherlock Holmes Marta da Silva as Mariana Ametxazurra Thomas Mitchells as Mycroft Holmes Donald Pirie as Giorgios Melas  Additional voices Adam Jarrell Darcey Ferguson Written by Joel Emery Directed by Adam Jarrell Editing and Sound Design by Holy Smokes Audio Produced by Neil Fearn and Jon Gill Executive Producer Tony Pastor Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Go to patreon.com forward slash Sherlock and Co. For bonus material, early access to episodes, add free listening, and much more. That's patreon.com forward slash Sherlock and Co. Okay. Uh, John, I did it. Uh, do I just hit stop or? Previously on Sherlock and Co. Thanks, guys.

Hmm? I really... Like I know I probably would have never planned something like this to rest. It's not even about rest, so... I just need to run a quick errand. Who's that? An errand? In Miconos.

Yes. I mean, I can come if you want. Good. I may need an extra pair of hands. Here, if you could step aboard. Want a Poseidon? Yes, please. Okay, okay.

If you'd like to just rest yourself, just in here. In the speedboat? Yes. Someone will take us back, I'm sure. You don't want me to come in? No problem at all. Two ticks. Shut. Oh, hello there, darling.

Ever so sorry? No problem. Nice yacht. Isn't it just? You should see the inside. I'd love to. Ah, no time. My friend and I, come on you.

Oh, hi. You're all right? And I'll take the wheel if that's all right with you, John. Uh, how do you... Oh, I just do. I just do. And... Ah! Whoa, whoa, wait, wait. Your hand...

Holy stuff. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, damn shame. Seemed a fine, chap. I rather like the eyebrows. Oh, they have a car, marvellous. Ah, ever so sorry, John.

Jesus! Right, oh, John boy. Meethinks a couple of the island's finest agronies. They call us, do they not? Like sirens beckoning us to the rocks. But it is not us who shall be on the rocks, but them. Hey, do man.

No. The diogenes is this way. I don't care. Whoever you are, just leave me alone, okay? John, this is... What? The actual... Ah, John! You must try a chorus mask. Cornelian cherry. That cherry's out of my face!

Oh. Yeah! Oh! Time for you to leave. Mariana, call the Greek police. The Greek police. Yes, call them. I'm sure you speak Greek, so just do it. Call the police on Sherlock's brother? Yes, call the...

What? John, this is my brother, Microft. So what is it, little one? Am I a workaholic or a lazy son worshipper? I am nearly making observations. And I have made one in you. Which is what, exactly? That your work means as much to you as mine does to me.

And I can prove it to you. How so? By presenting you with one right here in Micanos. You cannot solve it yourself. I cannot. cannot. Mr. Melas, a Greek interpreter. Ancient Greek, really. He stumbled across something rather remarkable. What exactly did he stumble across? He'll tell you himself. My croft. I'll bring him by tomorrow. And before you know it, as mum would say,

the game is afoot. The game is a foot. Mary, is that you? Is that you leaving? Sherlock? I was just popping out. For what? For some fresh Greek. Is that a euphemism? For what, exactly? For smoking?

For, you know, for opioid-related i jinx? Yes, that's exactly what it is. I'm feeding my addiction. Won't be long. Sherlock! Sherlock! Hello, listeners. John Watson here, currently looking down on our friend

Sherlock Holmes in more ways than one. I am sat on the hillside, roughly where our hotel is. I followed him out. He was unaware of it. Thank you very much. And I watched him walk along the beach in pitch black, get into a rowing boat and get over to a yacht out there. Not the Poseidon. We're in a different bay. But it would seem that there is some sort of drug boat out there. If that's a thing. I don't know. Could be. Well, evidently it is. And I'm going to sit here all night if I have to, and I will pounce on him when he comes back up this hillside. This is a new low, a new low.

Now, why he thinks that hanging out with me and Mariana for an extended period of time is that painful that it must be remedy is beyond me. Maybe it's the brother. You know, maybe Minecraft got him into this, and yeah, this has stimulated a need for it. There's a light on in the yacht, but otherwise nothing going on. Could do some shoutouts, couldn't I? I suppose. Got a pretty sizable backlog of those, let me tell you. Says me right, for getting shot.

Um, right, shout out to Basler in Brunei. Shout out to Faith and Bluebell in lovely Cornwall. Good luck with the GCSE's Faith and for the A Levels Bluebell. Let us know how you get on, yeah. Happy 50th birthday to Jim Thompson. Sorry I'm a bit late there, Jim. Happy birthday, mate. Have a good one. Oliver hasn't asked for a shout-out,

Oliver is one of the brilliant Wikipedia folks that keeps the shows Wikipedia all alive and well. So thanks, Oliver. And any others that listen. And, oh yes, my mum has asked that I shout out Elizabeth from France, who sent a lovely email when I was, yeah, under the weather, as Carol put it the other day. I mean, that's one way of saying, oh, hold on. Hold on a second. There's another person who's just gone along the beach and is now

rowing. Looks like he's heading to the yacht that Sherlock is in kind of older looking guy. Short, black hair, shirt and tie, I think, a bit formal for a bit of the old smack. But there you go, takes all sorts, I suppose. Well, he's

climbed aboard and gone inside. And once again, Spymaster John Watson has gone unnoticed in the darkness. I have not only gazumped his smartly dressed dealer, I've totally fooled Sherlock Holmes as well. The Sherlock Holmes. Hello. Hello.

If you're going to sit up there playing Spymaster, you may as well come aboard. For goodness sake. Yep, yep. Shitting hell, that's anacker in that. There wasn't enough boats on the bay. I had to strip off. God, I can't breathe. I had to swim, one-handed because of the mic.

I got seaweed wrapped around my leg at one point, and I thought it was a shark. I just kind of thrashed around in there for a bit. Oh, then, yeah, yeah, gathered myself. But, yeah, here we are, on the yacht. On the yacht, so I bet I better just... Ooh. Dr John Watson.

Darling underwear. Yeah, I had to get undressed to swim out. You're very excited, I see. No, no, that's just the cold has made it kind of shrivel and now it's protruding. For the World Cup. Huh? The pants. Ah, yeah.

Yeah, three lions on a shirt. England. Yeah, well, three lions on my underwear. White underwear. You're a braver man than I. Come through. I was just wondering, Mikeroft. Could I maybe?

get a dressing gown? Or even just a Hello. Hi there. Hello. Hi, uh. You could have dressed. I did dress. You're missing a few items. They're on the beach. Dressing gown. There you go, dear boy. Oh, thanks, my crot. Thank you. There's...

There's... Um... What? A gun. In the pocket? Ah, bugger. Yes. There she is. Why don't I need that while wearing this? I don't know. completely slipped my mind. Take a seat. John Watson, this is Jorgos Melas.

Good to meet you. You too. Yorgos is quite the paradox. He has a truly monstrous intellect. Frightfully large. I'm surprised we're still afloat with that big brain of his on deck. However, they say that those who are most arrogant, sure of themselves and boastful are big-headed. Then if we extrapolate in the opposite direction, those most modest, most humble must have small heads. So there you have it, John. The biggest brain in the smallest possible head. Thank you, Mycroft.

Rather long-winded, I thought. What are we all doing on a yacht at midnight in Micanos, gents? Because if this is what I think it is, then I would rather Sherlock withdrew from this aspect of life. Oh, goodness. I am, quite frankly, disappointed, Mycroft, that you, a man of exceptional health and fitness, would allow him to tear his body apart like this. It's part of the job.

I'm sure you of all people would agree. No, it isn't, and I don't. I fear it is, John. I fear that my friend is being taken advantage of by his own brother. He does this willingly? Oh, does he? Yes. Is this true, Sherlock?

It's true. God's sake! When were you gonna tell me? Tell us, when? Come on, let me see it. See what? I want to watch. I want to watch this unfold. Let's see you feed his addiction then, come on. Right. Um, Mr. Melas.

Yeah, Mr. Melas. You're gonna whip it out, are ya? Hmm? Stick it in him. Do it, mate. Do it. Sorry? Come on, let's see it. Show him a good time, Mr. Melas. And guess what? I'll be the one. who wakes up next to him in the morning, yeah, when he's full of guilt and shame. I'll have to deal with it.

Firstly, it's melas, not me, lass. And secondly, John, I don't think you know what this is. Oh, I know exactly what this is. Yeah, blokes, meeting up on a yacht at midnight. I know what he is as well. Who? Sherlock. Yeah, I know exactly what he is. And what is that exactly?

You're addicted to it, mate. You're an addict. I am addicted to crime. Is that a crime? What? You. What do you mean? Me, you, mate, you! John, um, I had asked Sherlock if he would partake in a sneaky little case,

while you were enjoying some much-needed R&R. A... Case. Yes, a case. Feeding your... Addiction. Two... ...cases.

Problems, detective. Right, yes. Sorry. Yeah, that makes more sense than the drug thing. You don't have to be part of it. Well, you know. What? Just haven't done one in a while.

I basically missed out on the last one, so... Jorgo, let's take these gents on deck. I'd rather like some sea. As you can tell by my name, not necessarily my accent, I am of Greek descent. Even from when I was very little, I was always captivated by the... Well, by Mother Greece. You know, hellas.

I studied Greek mythology relentlessly so, and I took advanced classes in the ancient Greek languages spanning my Sainian Greek through to Archaic and Homer, then my doctorate, and I, along with Sophie Critides, became the... Well, um... The leading experts in the world for ancient Greek. Good for you, Georgios. When addressing a person of Greece, one would say Jorgo, S. But if referring to him, when not in his presence, it would be Jorgos.

Sherlock, stop smirking. It's melas. And Jorg... More whiskey. Thank you, thank you. Yes, so I don't know if you've heard of Sophie, but that may help. I have. Great. I haven't. Sorry. Don't be, don't be.

She and I are both. based out of London. She is, was. I don't quite know how to put it, but Sophie's the professor of Greek epigraphy in ancient history at University College London. I was the curator of Greek antiquities for a while at VNA. Now I'm an independent epigraphy and provenance consultant. You said you don't know how to put it with Sophie. What do you mean? Well, so Sophie sent me a message about six weeks ago and called me into the college. I had got bit over-excited. I assumed it was for a short-term contract position. Those places have a lot of money, you know, so it, uh, well, I was rather keen to, and actually, I immediately realized that her

excitement had somewhat trumped mine. So I asked her what's going on, and she says she had had a meeting that day with a man, Harold Latimer. Right, that's who you were searching for, right, Mycroft? I was on a different job in time. with the Mikau's situation. But it doesn't hurt to ask, to help my friend here. Nothing? Nothing. So what happened to Harold Latimer?

The question, rather, Dr. Watson, is... Is what happened to Sophie Critides? Okay? She talked about that meeting she had had with Harold. He came to her out of nowhere. He had hit a dead end. I'm sure you've noticed the digs around here at the moment. Yeah, we've seen a couple archaeologist types, yeah.

It's a lift of restrictions from the Greek government. Things are popping up all over the place. Harold had much earlier inherited a diary of a British traveller from the late 19th century, Charles Hardy. Hardy had mentioned in his diary that the locals of the islands of the Aegean spoke of a theft by the British, of a, well, a rather ubiquitous and ordinary inscription stone. fragmentary one at that.

Mid-third-century BCE attributed to Phyllon of Naxos. Latmer dives into research to track it down, and lo and behold, he doesn't have to go particularly far. It's in the vast storage rooms of the British Museum, covered away, collecting dust. Not on display or a no? No. Why does he want it? Just because Hardy put it in his diary? Hardy said the locals spoke of it like a treasure map.

A treasure map? Yes, so Lappner asked the British Museum about it. They turned down his offers to buy it, but they allowed him to view it. He did so. And? And it was very plain. An ordinary script from an ordinary Greek of the time. Nothing remarkable at all.

A census of goats and olive trees. He asked to buy it again, and they declined. He still wants the boring stone with nothing on it. just take a picture, surely. Well, he got his way. He tells my friend Sophie in this meeting that he eventually secured the fragment. How exactly? I do not wish to know, but he was backed by a significant AI startup.

US-based. He didn't want just a photo of the tablet, and he wanted the whole thing. They ran an RTI and a multispectral imaging scan on it. They fed the results into their AI, and it read. something. Something that was scratched off and overwritten nearly 2,000 years ago. The AI read it, yes, but it cannot understand it. Neither can his team. So he went to Sophie. Had she seen the fragment by the time of your meeting with her? Yes. And that was the reason for her near-explosive excitement. There was something written in ancient Greek, but in English it would translate to

walk where goats refuse, where the sky breaks the sea, find the stone that swallows the dying sun. As Sophie, such was her brilliance, could understand not just the language but the inference of the text. Phylon of Naxos scried on the tablet in the mid-third century BCE. This deep shadow of a riddle once carved onto its surface was likely from 200 years before that. The golden age of ancient Greece, 5th century BCE, she was able to match the handwriting, as it were, of a man from the time known as,

Vassilef's this mass, Tisniso Apollonos, the king west of the island of Apollo. He later became known after his death as the Moon King. The island of Apollo is Delos. Yeah, that's east from here, so the island west of Apollo is right here, Micanath. That's right. Sophie felt like the fragment was telling her how to find Atholos, the crypt of the Moon King.

It was very exciting, very, very little is known of him. and there has been recorded descriptions of his mask of gold. I left her to her research. I said I would go through my work I did on Delos a few years earlier. I could also secure some artifacts that she would be able to use Latmer's machine on. A few days passed, and to my real shock, because this was just so thrilling for Sophie and I. I heard nothing from her.

Nothing. I checked in with the university a week later. It could have been ten days later. She hadn't even attended since the day I had seen her. God. She had totally disappeared. Her brother had been asking of her too, but even he had become uncontactable. I informed the police, and the last it was recorded of her was at Gatwick Airport, boarding a flight to Mekanos. You're hungry or you're cheap. And you're trying to get the most out of the breakfast that comes to the room. Is it both?

It's both, right? I've been up most of the night. Really? Why? I followed Sherlock out of the hotel last night. He left the hotel? Mm. Oh, indigestion. Eat through it.

Please. Move the story along. He left the hotel. Mikecroft found him a case or at least needed his assistance on a case. I thought we were relaxing. Yeah, not something the great detective is that great at. He's the great detective. I'm the great relaxer.

We've got to stay in our lanes. We're home. What was it? What's the case? No. It was, um, so there's this eminent, um, ancient Greek kind of academic, really that can, uh, interpret and

translate all this old, ancient stuff. Like an epigraph. Yeah, that's what I meant. Yeah. See how I interpreted and translated the stupid words coming out of your mouth? Yeah, exactly. You're a Watsonian epigrapher. So, anyway, there's two of them, actually.

One is called Sophie Critides. The other is Georgios Milas. Although Microft says it's Malas, Sherlock is saying, Milas, I'm pretty sure to annoy you, Minecraft. Georgios doesn't really seem to mind. I'll stick with Milas, Team Sherlock and all that. So anyway, I met Georgios last night. He tells me there's this artifact, a golden mask of the moon king.

Ooh, okay, I like this. Uh-huh, knew you would. Suspected to be off the mainland in areas like Micanos. So Sophie, with the backing of this Harold Latimer guy and some finance and tech, goes to find it. Uh-huh, uh-huh, John, can you please just get the story out, then you can finish the breakfast? Hold on. In fact, can you stop drinking tea and boiling hot Greek weather? So she goes, banishes.

Not seen since? Nope. How long? Three weeks. Wow, that's crazy. It is. But here's the really, really crazy bit. What?

Georgios tells us he was visiting his parents just outside of Athens last week. Yeah. He gets an email from a potential client. Georgeos is a freelance epigrapher. A freelance epigrapher. Consultancy type guy. The client is in Athens, says he's got a project. He'd like to.

use him for. Maylas goes, great. And he heads out to meet the guy at a bar in Athens. He's talked on the email about a very large payment, which is great, of course, but also a stake in the item should it be discovered. He's very much laid the groundwork to get me there. Money is no issue. I eventually get to the bar. He's not there. Wait a while. Nothing. I ask staff, nothing again, but as I come out this voice, hey, me las, it's coming from this big black BMW. I go over, and the guy is talking through a slit in the glass. I can just about see his eyes. He says there's this big breakthrough on his dig, and I should come right away in all this,

and he passes five thousand euros out of the window of the car, just like that, says the finding and the land sale post excavation will make him millions. I look, I stupidly get in the car. It's shooting along before I've even put my seatbelt on. There is a man next to me, big sunglasses, bearded. Before I know what's going on, there is an eye mask. Like from a flight over my eyes, they say it's insurance for them, that I don't locate their dig, their discoveries and sell them out. My heart is really going by this point, and I can tell by the traffic noise I'm being taken out of Athens. It's not long until I hear the ocean, and they move me from the car to a boat. They don't talk.

And if they do, it's vague. It's about football or parties or girls. Nothing that helps me determine landmarks or direction. The boat journey must have been over an hour. It could have even been two. I was allowed a sick bucket. They didn't trust me to lean over the side and vomit in the sea in case I made a break for it.

I don't know. I tried. Of course I tried to work at what direction we were having. headed due to the location of Athens almost entirely south. But there was a turn leftward, so possibly eastward, and a change of wind, 30 minutes after that, where we're on land. I try my best, but no, I can smell nothing, no, no industry as such. I can feel just sand and rock beneath my feet.

I can't make a determination on anything. on anything, but there was a creaking of wood, thick old wood. No metals or mechanisms as such. Before I had a chance to kind of process that, I was back in another vehicle. I know we took a straight road for some time then two left turns. After that, a long winding road that climbed terrain that I'm absolutely certain of. It was weaving, but we were gaining altitude. I could feel the pressure in my ears. All movement seemed to be following this road, but then a very deliberate right, which shifted into a much more uneven road. Then, this very slow, final right turn. We pulled up in a very thick, sharp gravel, and they walked me across it. A door opened. A door opened.

I was in a building. This mass came off and the door closed. This is when I met, a man I believe to be, Harold Latimer. Oh, he was there in the secret house. Yeah. And... John, come. I'm filling Mariana in.

It would seem you're filling your own face in. Sorry, this is called breakfast. No, everybody does it. Mariana, would you like to see the Greek islands? I would. And what about Athens itself? Oh, totally. Then you can escort Georgios Mela's home.

He must go by ferry in two hours, but I would not like him to go alone. Then Mikecroft can... Going with Mikecroft would be even worse than going alone. Just asked John here. He's right. Guns? Gangsters? But I get to see Athens and come back here.

And I don't have to go with you two snooping around some creepy house in the middle of nowhere. That's right. Would you like to search for a missing woman, or would you like more bacon? The... Yum. The woman thing. So, this happened to me last a couple of days ago, and Sophie was taken three weeks ago.

Yes, all rather recent. Time is pressing. Is this the old town? Is it all up there? Indeed. Lovely place. Really nice. A few cafes along there.

I just said time was pressing. I'm not saying we go and have a bloody coffee in Buckleba. I'm just pointing out that it's an attractive place. No time, Watson. Sake. We must trace the movie. that Milas was able to give us. He said himself they were vague.

They were detailed enough, thank you. He doesn't know for a fact it's Micanos, does he? He woke up in Athens, didn't he? But what, he came back here for Mikecroft or because he was certain he was taken out to this island? The man can interpret many things, Watson, with the right set of components to guide his well-trained mind. He knew of Sophie, and he knew, albeit vaguely, of Latimer,

We have only his blind recollections and if that's where we must begin our case then so be it. So, I take it you're getting us to where you think his boat from Athens came ashore in the middle of the night last week. That's exactly right. The islands of Tinos and Andros sit to the north-west of Micunos.

They directly obstruct any northern approach. To do such a thing would require a longer journey or to circle this island at a much slower speed. Not something that Milas mentioned. so we know the northern half of the island is not where they terminated their journey. Georgios did, however, mention a change of wind and possibly direction.

The discernible wind change was not, in fact, a shift in the weather pattern, but actually the island of Cirrus. They turned eastward and the hilly outcrop of Cirrus blocked that southern wind. From that, straight shot to the west coast of Micanos, right where we are now. Hey, look, I'm pleased.

Sure, but he's... He said the man escorting him gave nothing away. He couldn't smell anything distinctive, nor feel anything under his feet that could help him come up with any idea of where he was. There was a clue, actually. Yeah? The groan and creaking of thick, old wood.

Boat? I would expect. The boat he was on. He said it was a mix of aluminium and fibreglass composites. It had a powerful motor. He was seasick. No. It was a modern vessel, Watson. And what's the old wood, mate? It's 400-year-old wood, and it's not Greek, it's Venetian. Well, at least in craft, perhaps not origin.

That's extremely specific. Yes. You look absolutely certain of this. How come? Well, if you stop looking at me and look to the left, you will see... Windmills. Kato Millie. The windmills of Micanos. 16th century Venetian wheat grinding marvels.

And... Our first clue. Look, there's the straight road. Then we follow it. In this heat? You want to walk all the way along that? Oh no. Not at all.

And what? Squeeze my stomach. I'm holding it so I don't fall off and die. Thank you very much. Yeah, but you're making me feel sick. It's because you have bloated after an enormous breakfast. We pay for a room with breakfast. I'm not just going to nibble at some toast and have a sip of orange juice, am I?

It's not an obligation. You just need to not get so excited about food and... You know what? Yeah, that's right. If you want to break the moped by going over pumps and tracks on the road, you're only hurting your own deposit. Oh, yeah, good point. When's my left?

The first one is coming up, I'd say. The high ground is to the north. George's spoke climbing in altitude. Left turn complete. It would most likely be a fork in the road, adjudging by the landscape. Yeah, probably more of a veering to the left. The sharp left will take us back down.

Yes. forgivable from Georgios. He was blindfolded seasick and very tired. I think I can see... The road forms. And yes, look. Veering left onto the dodgy winding road. I can't believe you wanted to walk this. No, I didn't. Yeah, you did. Didn't you? Why would I put a moped higher if I wanted to walk it? Why would you keep an older brother secret for over two years? That's the real question, mate, isn't it? I knew this would come up. It would come up, like it's some minor inconvenience. But you didn't do the washing,

up or something. Which you always nagging me about anyway. Yeah, but this is bigger, isn't it? Is it? You know it is. The house, it had this smell to it. I can't quite place what it was, something inorganic, something new, I think. The man called himself Sam, but he resembled what Sophie had told me of Latimer. Sam. It was almost like he thought it up on the spot. I tried to be kind and a naive with my eyes, but I couldn't help when they would burn into his with suspicion and anger. I concluded the best I could do was do the work he wanted and get back to the authorities. A load of bloody help they had been.

I noticed he had three men working for him. One was armed, big, formidable. The other had an English accent like Sam. He was much more stick over carrot when it came to my treatment. Let me tell you that. Then there was a final man, rake thin. His black overalls dangled off his body, this thick tape on his mouth, dried blood in his nostrils, really gruesome energy to this entity.

I didn't meet his eyes because they were so hot. horrifying to look upon, emaciated, bleak and terrified, rolling around in their sockets as if there was some powerful intoxication in his system. The Sam fellow pushed this paper-thin man to one side and I heard his body thud against the wall. It was wooden and hollow. We carried on down this tight hallway. This man I suspected to be Latimer, this Sam. just talking near total nonsense, just irrelevancies over and over again, until he walked me down some steps. It felt at first like a basement until the air got cooler and cooler and cooler.

I could smell dirt, and within seconds, I could feel it under my shoes. He finally stopped talking and walked me to a cut in this, this dirt trench under the house. no foundations, just earth. There were industrial spotlights all pointed at this rock right in the centre. He said that he required my services to understand the ancient cipher that stood before them. He would triple the fee, he said. I said I hadn't named a fee. And he said that I could pick any number and he'd triple it.

I looked at the stone Observe The sharp gravel Watson Yes mate No cars parked up No cars But we do have our house Yes

Weird place for a house Walk where goats refuse There's sharp rocks This is like An ancient quarry Maybe but there's vegetation I thought goats could eat anything

Not this What is? What is it? Mandragora aficanara. It's native to the Mediterranean. Poisonous? Yes. Known as Mandrake. The root can kill you. It's also a pungent sedative. It can leave you very confused and delirious if consumed. And it would appear somebody may have done just that.

It's been picked here and here. So we are where the goats refuse to... tread. Yes. Where the sky breaks the sea. The sky breaks the sea. There's no vegetation. Because of the, like the sea spray, the salts, it's dried it out. Yes. Find the stone that swallows the dying sun. We have a lot of stones and a house? The house sits low in this landscape. The dying sun is a setting sun which comes down over there, so the light that is first swallowed would sit there. On the house. Hmm. A house in a pretty rugged old quarry, and a fairly small house for a guy that has all this money. Perhaps it is larger on the inside. Well,

let's go find out, eh? I saw the etchings and words on its surface and I knew. Straight away what it was. It was his writings. Writings of the moon king. It's open. I can have a quote. Don't move.

You see someone? Do not move. What is it? Dirt collected in my throat. I let out a cough and just a... single second after that, I heard her scream.