My empire started in my dreams, back in the house I so eagerly forgot. I was born, and grew up, in a house with ten million soldiers. It was called, the House of Clones. I lived in the only inhabitable part of the star sized mansion. Back when the Galactic Empire was still called the Milky Way. It was made of pure Leanthon, a metal six hundred times lighter, eight thousand times stronger and nine million Galacs cheaper per giga-ton than steel. It was in the core of the star, two thousand times the size of earth that I grew up under constant scrutiny from my teachers. As if I had a predetermined standard to uphold, a pre-laid path to follow. I never quite got use to it. That always being watched always critiqued. I lived in that mansion until I was of age and old enough to leave the scrutinizing care of the clone nannies.

I left on a ship I called The Guardian Star. I chose her because she had always helped me get out of trouble, often taking the punch for my "crimes". We left for the Galactic Nexus, hoping that we would get a warm welcome there. The House of Clones had build a reputation for being a double crossing, double dealing Line even being excommunicated from the commonality, the other lines deciding that it was safer to be on the rest of mankind's side.