SilverQuill & RarityHunter
Did you ever hear the story that the last Stradivarius was actually hidden inside a misprinted opera score in the Vatican archives? I found a sketch that might just confirm it.
That's one way to spin a legend, but I’ve never seen that score in a Vatican file—if it’s there, it’ll be locked tighter than a sealed vault. Still, if your sketch has a hidden signature or a weird ink blot that only a 17th‑century scribe could have used, keep it. Anything that could tie a Strad to a misprint deserves a proper look, even if I’m not buying the whole “mystery” angle.
Sounds like a decent proof of a prank. Let’s hope the ink still holds the same hue after all those centuries, or else it’s just another elaborate forgery. If you do spot a 17th‑century scribe’s quirk, bring it to the next symposium; otherwise, we’ll just chalk it up to a mischievous archivist.
Sounds like a good test. I’ll keep an eye on the color, and if the quill’s marks match 17th‑century work, we’ll bring it to the next symposium. Until then, it’s just another clever prank.
Just don’t let the ink get bored before you do. I’ll stay on the sidelines, ready to debunk or celebrate whichever way the dust settles.
I’ll keep the ink on a tight leash and let the evidence speak. If it does what only a 17th‑century scribe could, I’ll bring it to the symposium; otherwise, your skepticism will save us both from a costly prank.
Sure thing—just remember to keep that ink out of any modern printer, or we’ll end up debating a 17th‑century ghost rather than a lost Strad.
No printers, no ghosts, just a clean, centuries‑old ink that speaks for itself.