He turns to look out across Skyhold, taking in the words. Quite the group. Especially given some of what Lady Cassandra has imparted on him. Malcolm nods down along the battlements, a request that they continue their conversation on foot rather than stand there half freezing on a crumbling wall.

"That we are. That we have yet to tear ourselves apart is nothing short of a miracle." It's still an odd thing, to now include himself in we despite having so recently arrived, still an outsider in too many ways, but here he is, with the Inquisition. History repeating itself. "Rarely have I seen many qunari in one place that were not bandits and worse. Yet here we find many, outside the Qun, and sociable. Dwarves, elves, both Dalish and from alienages and all else in between, Templars, Seekers, Circle mages and apostates and those unaligned with anyone at all. We must all of us work to keep peace within our walls, or our enemies will have no one left to fight if they come looking for one."