CITADEL INTERNAL CORRESPONDENCE LOG
SUBJECT: Ambient Climate Control (Central War Room)
FILED UNDER: Administrative Grievances / Threats of Structural Collapse
MEMORANDUM 001
FROM: Lysander, Chief Architect
TO: All Senior Authority Staff
DATE: 4th of Amber Fall, 08:00 AM
It has come to my attention that certain individuals have been manually adjusting the Central War Room’s climate rune. Moving forward, the rune is mathematically locked at a permanent 12.5 degrees Celsius with a strictly regulated 10% ambient humidity.
This specific climate prevents the warping of imported vellum and reduces the drying time of my standard-issue iron gall ink by 4.2 seconds per stroke. This will increase my ledger output efficiency by 18%.
Do not touch the rune. Put on a sweater if your biology is too fragile to handle optimal productivity.
— Lysander
MEMORANDUM 002
FROM: Archibald, High Diplomat / Gastropod of Culture
TO: The Architect
DATE: 4th of Amber Fall, 08:45 AM
Lysander,
I am not wearing a sweater. I am a Giant Conch. The sheer, aggressive stupidity of suggesting I knit a garment for a spiraled calcium shell is frankly offensive to my intellect.
Your optimal productivity temperature is barbaric. My third whorl is currently experiencing a level of dryness that borders on structural flaking. I require a minimum of 28 degrees Celsius and an ambient humidity of 85% to maintain the luster that this Authority projects to the world.
I have politely instructed Aman to dial the rune up to a tropical setting. I suggest you adapt, or perhaps write faster before your precious ink freezes.
— Archibald
MEMORANDUM 003
FROM: Lysander
TO: Archibald
DATE: 4th of Amber Fall, 11:30 AM
SUBJECT: DESTRUCTION OF AUTHORITY PROPERTY
The 85% humidity you requested has turned the War Room into a swamp. My ink liquefied. Three months of eastern tariff calculations have bled across the vellum, resulting in an estimated economic miscalculation of four million gold pieces.
I have expelled the moisture using a localized vacuum spell. Furthermore, I have placed a Class-Four Geometric Ward over the climate rune. It will physically repel any biological matter that attempts to alter the temperature.
Your luster does not pay the infantry, Archibald. My ledgers do.
— Lysander
MEMORANDUM 004
FROM: Archibald
TO: The Pointy-Eared Filing Cabinet
DATE: 4th of Amber Fall, 01:15 PM
Lysander,
Your Class-Four Geometric Ward was, much like your personality, rigid and completely incapable of handling blunt force. Aman did not technically use biological matter to alter the temperature; he used a shattered piece of your own mahogany desk to smash the rune’s casing and jam the dial permanently to the Boiling Spring setting.
I am currently enjoying a delightful steam bath on my heated silk pillow. The acoustics of your exasperated sighing from the other side of the room are pairing wonderfully with my dewweed tea.
Do not test me, Architect. I have centuries of patience and a bodyguard who doesn't understand the concept of a magical barrier.
— Archibald
MEMORANDUM 005
FROM: LYSANDER
TO: THE SNAIL
DATE: 4th of Amber Fall, 02:45 PM
SUBJECT: EVICTION VIA GRAVITATIONAL INVERSION
Since you insist on ruining the atmospheric integrity of my workspace, I have recalculated the gravitational constant of your specific corner of the War Room.
If you do not instruct the brute to un-jam the climate rune within the next five minutes, I will activate the spatial matrix beneath your silk pillow. I have calculated the terminal velocity of a fat conch falling upwards. You will hit the ceiling at roughly 42 miles per hour.
It will mathematically shatter your precious third whorl into exactly 4,208 pieces.
Yield.
— L.
MEMORANDUM 006
FROM: ARCHIBALD
TO: LYSANDER
DATE: 4th of Amber Fall, 03:10 PM
SUBJECT: BIOLOGICAL WARFARE
You absolute, unimaginative fool. I AM NOT FAT.
Did you truly believe gravity was a threat to a creature whose fundamental biological mechanism is ADHESION?
I am currently on the ceiling. Aman gently placed me here right before your little spatial matrix activated. I find the view to be magnificent. It allows me to look down on you, which is mathematically and aesthetically where you belong.
Furthermore, because I am directly above your newly repaired desk, and because the temperature is still locked at Boiling Spring, I am over-producing my natural friction variable.
Look up, Lysander.
That single, massive droplet of gastropodic slime currently forming on the apex of my shell is positioned exactly above your open inkwell. Gravity is no longer your weapon, Architect. It is mine.
If you do not apologize for the sweater comment, I am going to let it drop.
— Archibald
MEMORANDUM 007 (INTERCEPTED NOTATION)
FROM: Torian
TO: Xara
DATE: 4th of Amber Fall, 03:15 PM
Xara, please come to the War Room. Lysander is trying to calculate the trajectory of a magical spear to shoot Archibald off the ceiling, and Archibald is threatening to relocate Lysander's lungs to the hallway. I brought scones to defuse the tension but the humidity ruined them.