Otto almost winced at Horatio's initial reply. The man was like jagged glass--it could be picked up, handled, but could injure with careless manipulation. It was how he decided he would deal with his commander. To be fair, the German couldn't blame him for his cold nature, and even sympathized with him. From what he'd seen, and what little he'd heard about the Dog, he figured he probably wouldn't rode the rope long ago.
It was a lesson in humility for Otto, who sometimes found himself thinking he carried the greatest burden amongst his companions. True enough, he'd seen hardship. Truer still that he carried his memories like a cancer in the pit of his soul. But his horror, his guilt, was precipitated by his own hands. The German took a moment to reflect on that, before Horatio spoke up again.
"And you, Otto?"
Otto considered his reply for a moment, and then cleared his throat. "Ah, about as well as can be. Until I received orders to join up with you and our friends, i'd been spending some time to myself." He paused for a moment, as if unable to find the right words. After a short moment, he looked back at Horatio. "...studying scripture."
That was true enough. He'd been lax in his duties over the past year, and hadn't been seen in New Life for almost two years. During that time, he'd wandered much as he'd always done as a Dog, but spent the majority of that time in contemplation. His book of scriptures was well worn by now, rifled through over many long nights of contemplation. The truth was that his faith was in crisis, though not necessarily from the threat of loss. But the doctrine of the Faith had begun to bother him, and he wondered if maybe the interpretation of the scriptures weren't being perverted--perhaps since before he'd found life as a Dog.
Otto's correspondence--bills of expense, and reports (There was little other than that, as Otto had no one he could call friend or family)--had dwindled to practically nothing, and his handlers as well as other higher ups in the church had become worried. It wouldn't do for a Dog to go astray, no matter how much or how little he knew of the inner-workings of the Faith. It was, the German suspected, the reason he had been put together with Horatio. The others he wasn't sure about, but Otto had a feeling both Horation and himself were put together for the purpose of whipping them back to their duty and devotion. If only they knew how cynical and discontent both men had grown.
Or perhaps it was wiser to keep two malcontents in one place. That was Otto's cynicism at its finest.
"I sought to understand the truth of the Faith for myself. It's well and good enough to have doctrine spelled out for you, but i'd rather understand it through my own eyes...with my own mind." The German gave Horatio a challenging look. Those were dangerous words, bordering--and possibly crossing--the line of heresy. But he figured that if anyone would understand, it would be Horatio.
Their conversation would not last much longer, as they were nearing the destination. As they spoke with each other, that fact festered in the back of Otto's mind. What he couldn't understand yet was the goal of the attack. Natives and bandits had been offered as the perpetrators, but there seemed to be clear intent behind it. Not something as simple as making off with cattle just running the inhabitants out. There was a sinister motive behind it, at least in his mind.