CHICAGO — After decades of fighting informally with tone alone, the nation’s offices unveiled a new “Per My Last Email” Sword Division on Tuesday, formalizing the polite-threat arm of the American workplace and issuing every member a ceremonial blade, a dress code, and a binding obligation to sign off with “warm regards.”

The announcement was made during a mandatory all-hands that could have been an email, a fact the division’s leadership said was “noted, and previously noted.”

“For years, our people have been engaged in sustained combat using only ‘as previously mentioned’ and a carefully timed ‘just circling back,’” said Dolores Venkataraghavan-Pruitt, Chief Escalation Courtesy Officer and Senior Vice President of Reply-All Readiness at the Midwest Consortium of Mid-Sized Open Floor Plans. “They deserved proper equipment. The sword is simply the next logical step in a conversation we’ve had in writing, three times.”

The blade, forged from recycled conference-room whiteboard markers and a single laminated mission statement, is not intended to be drawn. According to the division handbook, it is merely “present, in the room, during the follow-up.”

Members must adhere to a strict dress code of business casual with a visible lanyard, though a spokesperson confirmed that sword-bearers may wear a cardigan “in the event of air conditioning.” Scabbards must be worn on the left hip, opposite the laptop bag, to avoid what the handbook calls “an unfortunate clatter during stand-up.”

Initiation rites include a 90-minute orientation, a pledge to “reach out offline,” and a trial in which recruits must say “happy to clarify” while maintaining eye contact with someone who clearly read the email. Fewer than half pass on the first attempt.

Engagement rules are exacting. A member may only unsheathe the blade after a minimum of two unanswered messages, one calendar invite declined without comment, and a meeting in which someone says “I think we’re all aligned” while looking directly at them. Even then, the sword must be lowered slowly, while the member says, “No worries at all.”

“The most terrifying thing a person can hear is ‘Thanks!’ with the exclamation point removed,” said one division trainer.

That trainer, Gerald Oyelaran-Whitcombe, a Certified Tone Ambiguity Fencing Instructor at the Institute for Subtext Studies and Cubicle Defense, said the weapon’s true power lies in restraint. “Anyone can swing a sword. It takes a professional to attach it as a PDF and copy their supervisor.”

Critics warn the new division risks escalating tensions in already fragile break rooms, where an uneasy truce over the communal refrigerator has held since 2011. Human resources officials said they were “aware of the situation” and would be “looping in the appropriate stakeholders,” a phrase that caused several sword-bearers to nod gravely.

Reaction among rank-and-file employees was mixed. Some welcomed the clarity, while others said they had always assumed the threat was implied. “I figured the sword was there the whole time,” said accounts coordinator Brent Halloran-Dukes, adjusting his lanyard. “I just didn’t think they’d put it on the org chart.”

At press time, the division had already drawn its first formal complaint, which reportedly began, “Hope this finds you well.”