The Art To End A War

The war between the empire and the humans had raged for far too long.

The empire, used to swiftly crushing any resistance with overwhelming force was downright annoyed by the humans insistence to keep fighting.

Granted, they managed to destroy a fleet or two, but the empire knew they would break, like so many before them. The empire was eternal, resistance was temporary.

It took several years, but finally the humans sent the missive: "Requesting to negotiate a surrender."

That it took them this long to see the futility of their efforts would mean they wouldn't be allowed space-faring technology for several generations, most of their worlds claimed for settlement or mining by the empire.
To their credit, they showed the humility befitting their position.

Only three diplomats would be sent to the empires crown-world, dressed in traditional human garb of mourning and atonement, which, as the negotiators gleefully noted, included to cover their heads in ash.

As the small human ship finally arrived at the crown worlds space-port, it was informed that, regrettably, there was simply no room to dock at the diplomats-terminal, they would need to dock in the commercial district.

The empire was not a graceful winner and would take every opportunity to inflict indignities to those that were stupid enough to resist its eternal reign.

"What is that?!" the soldier pointed to a small, weirdly elongated creature one of the humans was carrying.
"A companion animal, from our homeworld. Intended to amuse the eternal majesty and aid in negotiation."

The soldier displayed mirth, if these primitives wanted to wager their species' future on this things ability to do little tricks, so be it. "Very well then, follow me."

The path their procession took was, by no means, the shortest one. It wound through the port, giving the empires citizens ample time to make a spectacle out of the humans coming to surrender.

The soldier leading them then made a path through the military-wing of the port, parading the human diplomats like he personally captured them and making sure they saw the unbroken might of the empire, should they even think about backtracking on the surrender.

It took the better part of the day before the dignitaries where even brought to the planets surface and shown to their quarters at the outskirts of the palace.

"Quarters" might have been euphemistic, "cells" might also have been a fitting description.

There, they waited. Of course, the eternal majesty was very busy, and meeting a bunch of backwater-diplomats was not high priority. Almost two full days passed, before they were escorted from their quarters to the palace proper.

Long stretches of walking under the burning sun, past rows and rows of honor-guard soldiers. Past monuments enshrining the empires many victories. Some of them decorated with the remains of the losing parties. Their guide liked to point those out.

More waiting amidst more honor-guards, before they were finally shown to the throne room.

The humans walked as close to the throne as they were permitted, before falling to their knees and touching the ground with their ash-covered heads.

Well, for primitives they did perform well in regards to palace protocol.

Even the odd companion animal had been trained to lay down.

"You may speak" a dignitary informed them. They were not worthy to be addressed by he eternal majesty.
"Thank you for granting us this audience your eternal majesty! We are here today to bring an end to the war between your grand empire and ourselves and to negotiate a satisfactory surrender!

I would like to begin the negotiation by telling your majesty about my species history, and why we brought this animal along."

"Do you believe your history, or your pet, will move us to sanction you any less?"

"I am certain your majesty will find my words helpful in determining the conditions of the surrender."

There was a near imperceptible gesture on the throne.

"Tell your story, human."

"Thank you, your majesty! When our species was young, long before we discovered metal working, there was a fierce predatory species, with which we had to content. >Wolves< they were called. Odin here," he pointed at the small creature beside him, " is one of their descendants. Through centuries, we managed to make this fierce predator a companion, a friend, often integrated into human families."

"Do you suggest we keep humans at pets?" The contempt dripped from the dignitaries words.

"Oh no your majesty, I have not been clear. As your majesty will have doubtlessly observed, Odin here does not exactly look like a dangerous predator. He is part of a subspecies that has many unflattering names today, like >sausage dog<, based on his shape. But originally, their name was >Dachshund<, named after the burrowing critter they were bred to hunt.

You see, these critters made deep, complicated burrows much too small for a human to follow. So we bred dogs that were small, aggressive and stubborn enough to run into the dark to face an animal twice their size."

"We are aware of humanities aggressive tendencies and stubbornness, do you suggest humans become the empires ...hounds?"

"No, your majesty. I'm saying, when my species was huddled around fires, wearing furs and using stone tools, we already created bioweapons.

Thank you for the extended tour through the spaceports many facilities, and this audience. I believe we are now ready to negotiate your surrender."