Blackfeather Woods you tell me everything twice

He cannot tell if the answer is pleasing, but Miraak seems to accept it, at the least. You serve death. In a way, he truly does. Argent can't help it - he smiles, fleetingly and rare, an oddly wry thing in his neutral mien. "I suppose I do," the titan agrees. "In whatever way I am needed." Not that he's been given anything by his new hosts - for the best, he supposes, although he would not hesitate to obey them to continue his guise.