Joseph despised slave auctions, regardless of how “high class” they were in character. Sentient creatures were put up on the stage for display, auctioned off like cattle, or in this case, like prized works of art. Either way it was cruel objectification. Either way, it made him sick. He had been to a handful of the events in the last thirty years, either as Master Alexi's assistant, or on two other occasions, standing in for him when he had other duties.
He despised going by himself even more. His collar with an etching of the Vandros seal, his papers identifying him as property of Mr. Alexi Vandros, and most importantly, his e-card, protected him from being kidnapped or sold. No, Master Alexi's property would be well-protected, and well-guarded, both from the (unlikely) possibility of his misbehavior, and from the possibility of capture by the more nefarious, and stupid, owners.
But he was not protected from the stares, from the looks he would receive from the other attendees. Some would be disgusted by his presence, sitting among them, bidding on other slaves, even occasionally conversing as though he were actually one of them, as though he were actually human, with only a simple wristband and collar separating his caste from theirs. Some would be envious of Alexi for owning a slave who was docile enough and trustworthy enough to act on his behalf. But even their glances of approval, envy, and desire would send chills down his spine, as he would wonder just how many of them would contact Master Alexi and ask to purchase Joseph, or to at least know where he acquired him, this time.
His social graces had to balance a razor edge between subservience and independence. He could never meet a human's eyes, but he could speak to them if it was necessary in order to perform his duties for Master Alexi, or if he was addressed. They served wine at these auctions, but he would be forbidden to drink it, though he was allowed some tea, water, or juice. It was a strange environment, and making the mistake of being either too subservient or too independent could bring social shame to Master Alexi.
All in all, it was a damned nightmare. But Joseph did not even hesitate in his response.
“Yes, of course I'll go in your place, Master. Thank you for taking my suggestion to heart,” was all he said. His own fears were unimportant, and none of the trepidation he felt was written on his face. As they reached the stairs, he slowly helped Master Alexi down one by one, until they reached the ground floor without his being injured.
It occurred to him that he had given his master many “orders” in the past few days, even if he had phrased them as requests or questions. But he could not help it. He was worried for his dear master, and somehow that worry was overriding his natural subservience. It had all started with Leader Schumann's capture. The stress from the danger his dear friend was in, from being forced to help torture Erik, from the uncertainty of this entire mess, was taking its toll. Quite apart from that, the revelation that Master Alexi did not believe in slavery and wanted to end it had allowed for a small spark of independence within his slave, as the last vestige of his fear of the man who was like a son evaporated. Besides, the human lord did not seem to particularly mind, strangely enough.
They approached the dining room where Master Mois was awaiting his brother, with Master Alexi still holding his arm.
“Are you going to be alright, Master?” he asked, a bit of his concern for the lord of the house slipping into his expression and tone.