The citizens of Arkonia still whispered silently, both in serious and formal discussions, the time when their motherland, the small rural country of Arkonia, was independent. Once. Before it's freedom was stolen from it. It's citizens' rights were stolen from them. It's king's life was stolen from him. And when it's queen's only son was stolen from her. Now there is no royal heir left from the original ruling family. Now it is just a small state of the reigning Coal Empire. All that was it's was stolen from it. It's lands are stolen and given to dictator lords of the Coal Empire. Two thirds of the yields of its rich crop plantations were stolen from it, paid as annual taxes in direct kind or indirectly as money by the peasants and farmers and the landowners of Arkonia. It's queen, the only living royal family member albeit not a blood relative, being the daughter of the head of one of the rich noble families of Arkonia, who were now reduced to landowners by the nobles of the Coal Empire, was stolen from it, banished and exiled over to the land beyond the Steel Mountains. All of this destruction, this chaos, started from the moment it's Borders were stolen. It's greatest power was stolen. It's magic was stolen, reducing all its people to doom and sorrow.