Beauchamp's office was quite with silent movement of people moving around.
Moreau stood before the heavy wooden door, glancing once at the adjutant posted nearby.
"He's ready for you, Captain," the adjutant said quietly. "You can go in."
Moreau stepped inside.
General Beauchamp's office was meticulously ordered.
Wide windows bathed the room in natural light, illuminating stacks of dossiers, precisely folded maps, and polished furnishings.
Behind the desk sat Beauchamp himself, a tall man whose presence had always reminded Moreau of stone sculptures strong, immovable, and cold.
The French flag stood stiffly at attention behind him.
"Captain Moreau," Beauchamp acknowledged calmly, removing his reading glasses and carefully folding them onto his desk. "Please, sit.
Moreau stepped forward, saluting before sitting down.
Beauchamp studied him for a moment, then tapped a small file folder resting on his desk.
"I suppose you've read it by now," he said.
