Disclaimer: All characters and overall plot points belong to Bioware and EA. Also, I borrowed in-game dialogue to work around, and I take no credit for that either.

Authors Note:

Half the fun of doing this is to elaborate on my OTI (One True Inquisitor), Malika Cadash, and play with how her Carta upbringing affects her decisions as the Inquisitor and her relationships with others. The other half of the fun is to fill in more blanks on Blackwall's character. I feel like people either sympathize with him or give him no mercy, and I have always loved him despite it all. I think it is the way I fill in those blanks that leads me to do so. I suppose my goal is to make you more sympathetic towards him if you are not initially inclined to feel that way. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy the development I try and give these two!

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Her eyes darted back and forth along the lakeshore, searching for the crimson blooms on reed-like stalks that would help Adan improve her Antivan Fire grenades. She had spotted the Blood Lotus while coming through the area looking for a campsite two weeks ago, but only now did she have time to comb the area for resources, having just returned from a failed trip to Val Royeaux to plead the Inquisition's case to the Chantry. If there was one thing her life in the Carta had taught her, it was to be prepared and secure every resource available; she stuck to it even as her companions trailed behind looking truly bored and skeptical. Cassandra and Varric were ones for action and found the whole thing tedious, while if it had nothing to do with magic or the Fade, Solas was hardly interested.

As she rounded the southern shore, a clamoring noise reached her ear, the sound of metal on wood, like a skirmish. On edge immediately, she ducked down behind a tree, causing her companions to follow suit. Malika saw a smile creep across Cassandra's face, and it was noted with amusement that the Seeker was eager for some confrontation. Still, it would be preferable to avoid unnecessary bloodshed if possible. She peered around the trunk of the tree, spying a group of armed men outside a cabin. Upon closer inspection, she noted it was an older warrior leading a group of young men through shield blocking motions, which they clumsily imitated. Clearly, they were novices being trained. Templars? They certainly weren't mages… "They will make this a fight, not us…" she heard the leader's voice carry to where she hid. Preparing them for an upcoming fight perhaps? She looked back and motioned for her companions to stay back while she edged her way through the undergrowth slowly, hoping to get a closer look before jumping into the situation.

She paused when she was about twenty yards away, unable to get any closer. The younger men were not dressed as warriors, and their weapons were rudimentary at best. They appeared more like farmers than soldiers, and not one of them moved with the killing edge of a military man. All the same, the leader before them barked orders as if they were, telling them to close the gaps of their formation. His voice was rough, and it seemed well suited for the burly, bearded man that he was. "Remember how to carry your shields; you're not hiding, you're holding, otherwise it's useless!" He began to pace, inspecting his charges with a critical eye. As he moved in her direction, she was finally able to get a good look at the emblem on his armor. It was not, as she suspected, the sword and laurels of a Templar, but rather the shield and griffons of the Grey Wardens. She had somehow stumbled upon the elusive figure Leliana was having trouble tracking down!

Still, Leliana had warned her that his order might have something to do with the hole in the sky given their mysterious disappearance, so she couldn't rush in assuming his intentions. Those recruits may not be much, but he looked like he might be formidable if he chose to attack. She motioned for her companions to come closer, and she emerged from hiding giving a clear warning. "Blackwall? Warden Blackwall?"

His eyes flashed and even quicker than she had anticipated he strode to where she was standing. "You're not…how do you know my name?" Before she could answer, he stiffened, and turned slightly, cocking his head as if to hear something more clearly. "Who's there?" She followed his gaze only to have his shield whip in front of her head, taking an arrow that would have killed her instantly. It took a lot to phase her, but Malika was at a complete loss as she stared at the intensely focused man at her side. Even as she stood there, a small group of bandits gave a battle cry while erupting from a growth of trees across the way. "That's it. Help or get out!" he ordered gruffly, lowering his shield. "We're dealing with these idiots first." He turned to his rag-tag troupe. "Conscripts, here they come!" With a wave of his sword, he charged ahead into the fray, leaving the young men to nervously follow. Shaking out of her daze as her friends finally arrived at her side, she pulled out her daggers and set to work dispatching the threat.

"I wasn't here to fight," the older man insisted, meeting a blow of the enemy's sword with his shield and turning it aside. "Stop and think!"

"Too late for that!" the bandit roared. "You know how this ends!"

Perhaps the bandit himself did not, or else he would have taken the soldier's mercy. Instead, he found a blade ripping through the weak spot of his armor and killing him instantly. Had she not been so focused on herself, she would have admired the practiced, ruthless efficiency of his technique…

The recruits were at least defending themselves adequately with their shields, though they were not quite adept (or inclined) to slay their attackers with the axes they wielded. Instead, Malika and her crew provided the muscle. Her first target was that damn archer that nearly claimed her life. She was pissed she had been made to look so foolish in front of the warden she needed to cooperate. Sneaking up behind him in the chaos of battle, she quickly dispatched of him with a fierce backstab through a chink in the armor. Then, she dodged her way to his companion, who met a similar end though face to face. How she did enjoy the look of surprise all over their features as they died underestimating her! Her confidence and rhythm came surging back after the awkward beginning to the battle, but it was too late. Before she could help the warden finish off the blighters and earn his respect back after needing to be saved by him, he did so himself with a decisive slice. Noting that every enemy was slain, he planted his blade in the ground and crouched down in front of his last victim. "Sorry bastards," he muttered grimly.

Then, he turned to look not at her and her companions, but at the recruits. "Good work, conscripts. Even if this shouldn't have happened, they could have…well, thieves are made, not born." He gestured at their corpses littering the ground. "Take back what they stole. Go back to your families. You saved yourselves." The young men looked at each other and nodded, leaving their mentor to reclaim what was theirs. Most offered the courtesy of a "Thanks, Warden," under their breaths as they shuffled off, as if trying to avoid drawing attention from the powerful strangers that bailed them out of a real fight. He simply grunted in reply.

With them taken care of, the warden finally addressed the dwarf before him. "You're no farmer. How do you know my name? Who are you?" He eyed her suspiciously.

She shrugged. "That depends on who you ask." Malika Cadash. The Herald of Andraste. A Carta thug. Could be any of those or more, really.

"I'm asking YOU," he said tersely, making her blink. Jeez, lighten up! These warrior types were always so straight-laced…

She cleared her throat, brushing aside the impatient remark. "Cadash. I'm with the Inquisition. I'm investigating whether the Wardens' disappearance has anything to do with the murder of the Divine."

Upon hearing the news, he began to pace, agitated. "Maker's balls, the Wardens and the Divine. They can't…no. You're asking, so you don't really know. First off, I didn't know we disappeared. But we do that. No more Blight, job done, Wardens are the first thing forgotten. But one thing I'll tell you: no Warden killed the Divine. Our purpose isn't political."

That comment made her internally roll her eyes. Everyone knew that the Grey Wardens had been right in the thick of Ferelden politics during the blight, with the Hero of Ferelden essentially deciding who would be the ruler of both Orzammar and Ferelden itself. Some of it had to do with Warden Alistair being a king's bastard son, but that didn't cover all of the strings that were pulled in the interest of stopping the Blight. Such a blatantly inaccurate statement coming from what looked to be an experienced veteran seemed… strangely naïve. Still, she did her best to ignore her skepticism. "So where are the others?" she pressed.

"I haven't seen any others in months. I travel alone. Recruiting. Not much interest 'cause the archdemon is a decade dead. And no need to conscript 'cause there's no Blight coming. Treaties give Wardens the right to take what we need, who we need. These idiots forced the fight, so I conscripted their victims." He gestured at the bodies spilling blood on the ground. "They had to do what I said, so I told them to stand. Next time they won't need me." He closed his eyes. "Grey Wardens can inspire, make you better than you think you are."

Malika sighed. This was getting nowhere. Did he truly know nothing, or was he just playing? There was only one thing to do in a situation like this, a trick she had used countless times in her Carta career: she was going to have to flirt. Clearing her throat, she brought out her most coy voice. "Well, thank you, Warden Blackwall, but now where does that leave us?" As subtly as possible, she stuck out her bottom lip in a pout and began to walk away with a slow swing of her hips. Her friends did not hide their stares of disbelief, which was making the whole act rather difficult to maintain, but she was still a pro. She didn't get to survive in such a rough environment by being mediocre… Besides, the man had been on his own for a while, undoubtedly. Unless he did not swing that way or was invoking the Maker's balls to compensate for his own lack thereof, he'd be an easy target for this sort of thing. Three…two…one…

"Inquisition. Agent, did you say?" She turned to look at him behind her, pretending to be surprised when he called her. "Hold a moment. The Divine is dead and the sky is torn. Events like these, thinking we're absent is almost as bad as thinking we're involved." He paused, and she raised an eyebrow to show her interest. "To put things right, maybe you need a Warden. Maybe you need me." Hook, line and sinker.

Still, she didn't want to come across as TOO desperate. "That's nice, but what can one Grey Warden do?"

His response surprised her, both from the measured, resolute tone and the vulgarity. "Save the fucking world if pressed."

Well, no more playing around necessary. This was going to be interesting… "Warden Blackwall, the Inquisition accepts your offer," she smiled broadly.

"Good to hear. We both need to know what's going on. And perhaps I've been keeping to myself for too long. This Warden walks with the Inquisition. Allow me a few moments to gather my things and I will be ready to follow."

When he walked off to pack up, Cadash finally acknowledged the confused trio behind her. "Sorry about all that. Leliana wanted me to check into missing Grey Wardens just in case, and one thing just led to another, and…ta-da! New agent for the Inquisition. Good news, right?"

"I'll ignore the fact that Leliana got you to do her bidding when I told her we weren't interested," Casandra frowned, clearly vexed that the Left Hand of the Divine went behind the back of the Right. "I suppose you just HAPPENED to stumble upon him."

Malika folded her arms. "In fact I did. ANDRASTE must have wished it," she replied with a cheeky smirk. Varric had to snicker at the response only to be knocked upside the head by the devout Seeker.

"Well, we need all the help we can get, and a Grey Warden is a powerful ally. They have much battle experience, especially being within ten years of the last Blight, and as he mentioned, the treaties are very powerful."

"I wonder what sort of man he is," Solas pondered, watching him from a distance as he began shoving his few belongings in an old sack. "Wardens can be a very colorful group. Most have a story, and they are rarely pleasant. I have observed many of their dreams."

"Colorful is good. We need to liven the place up in Haven," Varric approved heartily. "I'll bet that bruiser could get into some very interesting drinking contests… Maybe some good stories that would make those Chantry folks blush…

Malika just shrugged, bending down to inspect the bandits closely. "Before he's done, let's make sure those farmers didn't leave anything valuable on these sods. I'd hate to have anything go to waste." Varric nodded and bent down to assist.

As was often the case, he was the only one to help with looting the corpses. Casandra never felt comfortable taking from the deceased, no matter if they were victims or the ones dealing the death to others. She imagined it had something to do with the Nevarran obsession with preserving the dead, which Cassandra had explained to her once. Her uncle was one of the men in charge of the necropolis after all, and he essentially raised her. As for Solas, it simply did not appeal to him to dirty his hands. At first their refusal to help had greatly annoyed her; being the resourceful woman she was and seeing as their organization needed EVERY sort of resource it could muster, it seemed ridiculous not to permanently borrow from those who would not miss it. Besides, being from the Carta, she was unaccustomed to giving corpses any sort of reverence, as they tended to pile up quickly in certain areas of the gang. Still, time with her companions had tempered her somewhat. She no longer took any armor from them as a way to respect them and her friends' wishes. Crafting materials, money, and any correspondence were still fair game as long as it didn't take too thorough of a search.

They were not finding much left behind on the picked-over thugs, but there was one letter she managed to purloin once she glanced briefly at the first lines to ensure it was no shopping list. She shoved it into her pocket to read later. Perhaps it would interest Leliana if there was good information. Then, she sensed him approach and turned from her work. "Is that everything?"

"Yes, we Wardens travel light. As long as you have a well-maintained weapon and a good set of armor, everything else comes and goes." He shifted the sack on his shoulder. "So, where are we headed?"

"Four is the optimal travel group," Cassandra pointed out. "But I have business back in Haven I could be attending to, namely trying to get to the bottom of the odd behavior of Lord Seeker Lucius. Why don't you fill the warrior's spot for the time being? I'll leave it up to our Herald where you will go next. Does that seem agreeable?"

They all nodded. Malika was especially eager to see this Warden in action, so she was glad Cassandra suggested he sub into the party. She had to figure him out. She had seen men like him before, difficult to read. They were always hiding something. It would be a simple matter of uncovering those stories Varric and Solas knew to be there. This was something she had plenty of experience doing given her previous line of work, and it would be a fun game to play while she dealt with Inquisition chores.

As Cassandra walked off towards the Crossing, Blackwall asked again. "So, HERALD, where do you intend to go?"

"To Redcliffe," she said simply. "We received an invitation and truthfully, Cassandra might not enjoy it if we take the person up on it. Now would be a good time to…assess ALL our options." The mage and rogue nodded in agreement at her logic.

"Very well, lead on."

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Later that evening, while she was on lookout and the others were asleep, she pulled out the charred piece of paper stuffed in her pocket. Much of the ink was smudged, but a few sentences were legible.

-You can die pretending you'll earn back your soldier's honor, or you can do something with the skills that son of a bitch taught you. Spend some time with my boys. No one will know who you are in Ferelden, and it's not so bad. A little bit of smuggling, a little bit of extortion. You'll get used to it. –

So the bandits had intended to recruit the farmers into their ranks? Those farmers who had been stripped of their honor when they were robbed and forced to run would use what Blackwall taught them to help the bandits and earn back some of what was lost? The thought infuriated her. It was bad enough to be born into such a group, but to drag people from the outside into that dark world… Smuggling and extortion were only the beginning, and it got worse. She knew that from experience. Part of her wanted to crumple up the note and throw it into the fire. Those bastards got what was coming to them at the receiving end of Blackwall's sword, and she was perhaps just as grateful to him for what he did in defending those men as the men were themselves.

Still, one thing did not click, and it bothered her. The farmers WERE from Ferelden, so why did the note claim they would not be recognized in Ferelden? When it came to putting pieces together, Malika was admittedly OCD. One fact out of place meant her knowledge was incomplete, so rather than destroy the note she folded it back up and placed it in her bag. This would have to be investigated further.

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So, funny thing about that note. Even after playing a second time I STILL did not understand who it was referring to. Finally figured it out though, so will Malika. Much later.