The Reading Beneath the Waves
In its prior advisory [1], Le Council noted a reading it had filed as error, of the givre form, strong, with coordinates that resolved to no location Le Council's maps contained. Le Council noted that the error had not gone away.
The error has now resolved. Le Council is issuing this advisory to document where it resolved, because Le Council has run out of ways to describe the reading that do not require Le Council to accept where it is coming from.
The Coordinate
The signature originates at 31°N, 25°W.
Le Council's mapping office reports that there is nothing there. No island. No landmass. No shoal, no seamount breaking the surface, no charted feature of any kind. Open North Atlantic, beyond the old strait the ancients called the edge of the world, in water the Phenomenological Assessment Division measures at roughly three thousand meters to the floor.
The signature is not on the surface. It is beneath it. All of it.
Le Council wishes to address, directly, the question every fan has already asked, because Le Council's Office of Naming Conventions asked it first and would not let the matter rest. The name the Ice has attached to this arena is Atlantis, and Atlantis has been looked for. Atlantis has been looked for longer than most nations have existed. The searches failed, uniformly, and Le Council believes it now understands why.
They were looking for a continent. A drowned kingdom, a sunken civilization, a thing the size of a country with towers and ruins and a coastline you could run aground on. They swept the whole of this ocean for something too large to miss.
It was never large. The reading at 31°N, 25°W is a single hall. No one sounded that exact and unremarkable patch of empty sea, because the story had them searching for the wrong thing at the wrong scale, in the one place a story never thinks to look: somewhere with nothing on it. Atlantis was in a different place the entire time. The place was: down, and small, and quiet, and precisely here.
Atlantis Amonites — The Sunken Hall
Le Council registers the forty-eighth team.
The arena is The Sunken Hall. Le Council's facilities office lists its capacity at one. The office has confirmed the figure three times and has requested that it not be assigned to confirm it a fourth. Le Council does not know who the one seat is for. Le Council has elected not to speculate, on the grounds that every available speculation makes the walk to the parking structure longer.
The ice is givre—pale, feathered, the last of its form. Under the Ancient designation, every player in The Sunken Hall competes with a modifier Le Council cannot describe, because the effect of the Ancient modifier is Glacified, and this time the Glacification is not Le Council's. Le Council has filed forty-seven formal inquiries as to what the modifier does—one, Le Council notes, for each arena that existed on the day the reading began. None has been answered. The modifier applies regardless of whether it is understood, which is, Le Council has come to feel, the defining property of the entire season.
The Sunken Hall has never been inspected. It cannot be. Games played there are verified through means Le Council's Phenomenological Assessment Division has documented, signed, and declined to explain, in reports that are internally consistent, externally impossible, and, per the Division, "correct."
H.O.R.N. reports attendance at every Sunken Hall fixture as the same figure. Where the league's arenas post attendances Le Council's own statisticians have described as structurally implausible—crowds larger than the cities that hold them—The Sunken Hall posts one. Every game. Without variation. The seat is never empty, and Le Council does not know by whom it is filled, and has stopped, for the sake of its own staff, asking H.O.R.N. to find out.
The Amonites have no city and no country. Both are Glacified. They were here before the word for here. They kept the last seat for themselves.
On Reaching It
A question follows immediately from the registration of an arena three thousand meters beneath the surface of the ocean, and Le Council will address it, because Graine Wetsky Funds has already answered it.
Visiting teams are, per the fixture list the Ice appears to have drawn without circulating it, expected to play at The Sunken Hall. Le Council possesses no means of delivering a roster to that depth. Le Council raised this as an obstacle. GWF raised it as a line of business.
Descent to The Sunken Hall is now operated by GWF Abyssal Logistics, a subsidiary incorporated the same week the reading resolved, which has commissioned a single vessel—the Sounding—for the purpose. GWF reports that the Sounding is rated for the depth. The rating was issued by GWF. GWF owns the vessel, GWF rated the vessel, and GWF collects the fare, an arrangement GWF's own filing calls "vertically efficient" and Le Council calls "the three sentences GWF has been repeating all season, now with a hull."
External certification of the vessel was, per the same filing, "evaluated and declined on cost grounds." Every passenger—player, trainer, goaltender—signs a document before boarding. Le Council has read the document. It is long. Its operative paragraph assigns to the passenger every outcome the descent is capable of producing, to GWF the fare, and to no one at all anything in between. GWF, unprompted, has described this as "the entire function of a fund."
Le Council will state its position once. Le Council does not endorse the arrangement. Le Council cannot prevent it. No visiting roster has declined the fixture, and Le Council, having studied the schedule the Ice produced, is not confident the fixture is the sort of thing a roster is permitted to decline. Le Council observes only that GWF opened the season wagering on which cities the Ice would raise, and closes it owning the only way down to the one the Ice sank. Le Council's Office of Naming Conventions has proposed several words for this. Le Council has declined all of them, on cost grounds.
Balance
La Conférence du Givre stands at twenty-four.
Le Council returns to the count it worried over in its prior advisory, and reports that the count is now even. Twenty-four arenas of clear ice. Twenty-four arenas of pale. The Ice, which has never once in Le Council's tenure left a thing incomplete on purpose, did not leave this incomplete either. It was not short a team. It was holding one back—beneath three thousand meters of ocean, off every map, filed by Le Council itself as an error—until the wall between the two conferences had been named and written down and the shape of the thing was ready to receive it.
Then it brought the twenty-fourth up from the floor of the Atlantic and set the league at forty-eight.
Le Council does not find this reassuring. Le Council finds it deliberate, and Le Council has spent a career learning that those two words describe different feelings.
What Comes Next
The twenty-four arenas that manifested this season will not play this season. They join the four before them in a tradition Le Council did not design and has come to respect: the newly manifested watch the postseason, from the perimeter, in whatever the arena provides in place of folding chairs. The Second Postseason begins shortly. The forty-seven who can reach it will contest it. The Amonites, at the bottom of the Atlantic, will watch it by the means available to them, which Le Council will not describe.
In the season that follows, the league plays as it has been sorted: forty-eight teams, two conferences, the Verglas and the Givre. Le Council did not authorize the number. Le Council did not authorize the original twenty either. Le Council registered them, documented them, and kept the record straight, and that is the whole of what Le Council has ever done, and it has never once been enough to slow the Ice by a single day.
Closing
The Almighty Ice appeared, and where the Ice appears, there is Hockay. It appeared in twenty cities. It appeared in four more. This season it appeared in twenty-three cities and one coordinate with no city at all, and it sorted every one of them, without consultation, into the two forms it had apparently intended from the start.
Le Council observes. The Ice acts. The two have never been the same, and Le Council has stopped pretending it finds the arrangement comfortable.
The game continues.
If you have theories about the one seat in The Sunken Hall, Discord remains the appropriate venue. Le Council is not reading those conversations. Le Council is, on this occasion, hoping very much that none of them are correct.