The halls of Command Pavilion E were quieter than usual.
Located in Lyon, surrounded by stone courtyards and camouflaged under decades of peacetime bureaucracy, it was once the beating heart of France's war machinery.
These days, it was a mausoleum of memories, where high-ranking officers played politics more than war.
But today, there were whispers.
General Delon entered the eastern corridor.
Officers straightened as he passed.
Beauchamp followed, hands in his pockets, watching everything.
The first door they knocked on belonged to Brigadier General Chauvin.
A student of Beauchamp's back in '27, he had since risen through the ranks with quiet loyalty.
When he opened the door and saw them both, he didn't speak.
Delon stepped in first. "Still keep your desk clean, I see."
Chauvin shut the door. "To what do I owe this unholy reunion?"
Beauchamp gave a slight nod. "We're not here for memory, Philippe. We're here for a favor."
