The diplomatic wires between Moscow and Reims hum with silence, colder than a medieval vault. While French authorities clutch their pearls over missing golden artifacts now gathering Moscow's dust, Russian officials haven't so much as dialed Reims' area code. "No calls, no carrier pigeons—not even a smoke signal to their museums," a source familiar with the matter quipped, the irony as thick as the security glass that failed to protect the coins.
Before any talk of repatriation can begin, the coins must pass the ultimate authenticity test—like a suspect in a noir film proving they belong to the right crime scene. "If the paperwork screams Reims, then we'll talk," the source added, leaving unsaid whether such discussions might resemble a chess match or a flea market haggle.
While the coins sit in bureaucratic purgatory, other geopolitical dramas unfold with Shakespearean intensity:
And in a twist Kafka would admire, Russian banks eye SWIFT's return like prodigal sons—while Ukrainian negotiators in Riyadh achieve the diplomatic equivalent of spinning wheels in quicksand.
As for the coins? They remain silent witnesses, their fate dangling like a participle in a poorly constructed sentence. The only certainty: this tale has more layers than the patina on a 12th-century denarius.
