I had thought myself prepared.
That, more than anything, was the lie that revealed just how far behind we already were.
The summons to the special session of the House of Lords arrived at dawn, marked urgent in a clerk's neat hand that betrayed nothing of the weight behind it.
By noon the chamber was filled far beyond its usual temper—robes rustled, whispered conversations died the moment another peer entered, and even the habitual confidence of men accustomed to ruling half the world had thinned into something brittle.
I took my seat on the bench row of seating in the upper gallery, looking down on the central table, the current ruling government was headed by the Liberal party, while my own seat rested on the opposition amonst the conservatives.
When the doors closed, they did so with finality.
As the Lord Speaker finished his usual introduction welcoming us, the assemblage of Lords, and the presence of the mace a symbol of His Majesty's ever vigilant gaze over the nation.
Following this came our prayers for God's grace provided this time by the Bishop of Canterbury.
Once this was all finally completed the Lord Speaker, moved to invite the first speaker to rise.
Unsurprisingly, it was the Foreign Secretary who stood and took the stand prepared to address the entire house.
Looking at the man, his face was pale, while the papers before him were not cleanly organized and instead placed haphazardly before him on the stand, as if hastily compiled into the report.
He did not begin with rhetoric.
There was no grand framing of British destiny, no invocation of stability or balance.
Instead what he started with was the call for a map of Eastern Europe to be brought in.
This action shocked the assembled lords.
To have this be the first thing uttered in their presence, at an emergency summons no less.
Spelled out only one thing.
War.
Only for maps of Eastern Europe, our Empire had no lands within our hands in that region, so the only thing that could be brought up was the war between the Russian Tsar and the Ottoman Sultan.
A war repeating the previous event of the Crimean war from only three decades ago.
Only even during that time an emergency summons was not required, only a simple passing of a declaration of war, and the shipping out of our lads into the front to assist the Ottomans and pushing the war back into Russian lands.
This question was plainly written on all the lords faces.
As the massive map was unfurled onto the central table, brass weights were added to the corners to keep it flat.
And as expected the map was indeed focused on the Balkan region, though with the attendants quickly moving around and placing figurines upon the map.
As more were added the situation quickly became clear and the reason for the summon became clear to all in attendance.
The map showing the stately division of nations looked... off.
Austria had advanced a little ways into Serbia, while Russia had once more driven their armies south into Ottoman held regions.
But now, another force had replaced the typical Ottoman markers, symbolizing another European power, one that had clearly taken a considerable chunk of land from the Ottoman empire, and most shockingly of all.
Had even claimed their capital city.
"Gentlemen," the Foreign Secretary said quietly, "Ottoman Europe no longer exists."
There it was.
Spoken plainly.
No qualification.
No softening language.
A young lord who'd recently been granted a seat in the house two rows ahead of me swore under his breath.
The detailed report followed, and with it the slow, grinding realization that what we had dismissed as another Balkan flare—another noisy but ultimately containable uprising—had instead been a silent execution.
With how slowly information moved around the world even with the recent developments of communication technologies.
It would often be weeks to months before we were able to hear about events on the other side of the continent, or even the world itself.
And with winter having only just ended this delay was even greater as information travelled even slower during these seasons.
And so as the British Empire awoke from its winter hibernation, we could only find that the proxy used to act as a buffer to keep the Russian behemoth at bay had been dealt a crippling blow.
Constantinople taken.
The Sultan captured.
Most if not all of their European holdings, had been taken meaning as far as the Empires ability to resist was concerned, the situation was pointless.
And—what came next chilled the blood of all in attendance- 'Cessasstion of all hostilities.'
This war... one we had only just started considering getting involved in once again, was already over.
The victor and defeated decided.
So beyond acting as a neutral party involved in the upcoming peace proceedings there was not much the British Empire could do on the matter.
To condemn them on their actions so late after them having been done, would merely get us mocked by the other powers for being so behind on the times, even if they as well only just received the news themselves.
But the Foreign Secretary did not stop there.
His report continued on, revealing that beyond the loss of their tracts of land in Europe, the Ottomans had also lost control of the Bosphorus, and Dardanelles straits.
The words landed like a blow to the ribs.
For nearly a century, the Eastern Question had revolved around a single obsession: keep Russia out of the Mediterranean.
We had propped up a decaying empire, overlooked its crimes, tolerated its inefficiencies, all to ensure that warm-water access remained denied to the Tsar.
And now?
Now a Balkan kingdom we barely had diplomatic relations with had accomplished, in months, what Russian diplomacy had failed to do for generations.
"They are not Russian allies," the Secretary said quickly, anticipating the uproar. "At least, not formally."
"Then why," came a voice from the benches opposite mine, sharp and cutting, "are Russian ships sailing through waters we bled to keep closed?"
There was no answer that satisfied.
At best they could only guess that as the newest rulers of the region they were simply allowing all traffic through for the time being until they had a better handle on the political situation before the straits were sealed closed once more, at least until proper trade agreements, and treaties could be put into place.
But this news more than any other did not bode well for this assemblage of lords.
Many of us were about to spend a considerable amount of long nights seeking answers, and looking for a means to solve the current crisis before the situation completely got out of our control, and a veritable flood of Russian vessels made their way into the tightly controlled Mediterranean waters.