In the confusion, the lazy guards, who ought to have been patrolling the palace ever since Crimson assaulted the front steps of the ziggurat, had gathered their weapons and armour. These were not the mismatched plate and steel weapons he had seen in the guards of the city below. These weapons were sable. Dark, and rough, the texture of the hard substance that coated the city, their weapons were the only things that gleamed in the low light, sharp and deadly.