"This drone is only authorized to accept gold bullion and Imperial rupnu in exchange for items.

The nearest concierge-having hotel is...The Twisting Vines Hotel," and the drone will take Vivai to a large map of the city framed on the wall (which is for sale!) and point it out. It's about a kilometer north from here. Vivai will now also know that he arrived at the southern gate of the city, and that the hotel is nearer to the city center – the city is roughly circular and about two kilometers in radius.

"Thank you for visiting our shop, Sir, there-is-nothing-to-apologize-for*." Unless Vivai has something else to do, the drone will bow and open the door for Vivai.

* Two syllable interjection in Standard Imperial.

Vivai isn't embarrassed. The inside of an alien bookshop had no business being decorated like the inside of an alien pay-to-enter library.

Small city, geographically, and clearly not much built-up vertically, or very optimized for density. This would be an unambiguously good thing if their speed of intercity communication was much below what it apparently is. As it stands, however, the size of the city just means it'll be easier for the trail of embarrassing and possibly damning anecdotes he leaves behind, to stay stuck to his figure.

He will attempt to make his way to the Twisting Vines Hotel, which is in the center of the city meaning interaction with its resident advisor will probably cost him massively one way or another, but whatever, he is not taking his chances opening up further lines of discussion that could be huge etiquette bombs or worse, he is going to speedrun the path he's on until his footing finds itself.

What does he see on the way? Does he encounter any impediment?

There are more people in the center of the city which stare, but everyone keeps their distance – indeed, people seem to be subtly avoiding him – and no one disturbs him. There are more carriages here, but all of them only travel at a brisk walking pace. No impediments. 

More ornamentation and taller buildings! The Twisting Vines Hotel is five stories high, although each individual story is higher than what would be expected on Byway, given the larger size of remna. And because remna do love their high ceilings. True to the name, it has copper latticework on the facade that has been deliberately treated to induce green patina to resemble vines. And, of course, actual flowering vines on trellises, placed on rectangles of soil.

There will be two drones near the large door, which is open, wearing what could be called 19th century servant's livery in white and green, standing still.

Is the latticework actually a realistic sculpture of vines, or is it just green copper latticework that you would say looked vinelike if you'd been very very primed in that direction?

Trying hard to look casual, Vivai will approach the doors, watching the drones, and attempt to enter.  

It's actually a realistic sculpture of vines, although there are a few sections where it's merely a 'generic green twisting pattern'.

The drones will not interfere, because Vivai hasn't said anything, nor does he have visibly heavy bags which they think he would appreciate being carried for his sake.

Inside, the hotel lobby will have a high-ceiling and mezzanine type structure, with the second floor's room doors being visible from downstairs. It's kind of visually noisy. There are plush looking seats and cushions which alternately are colored plain green and white, or having ornate patterning. The floor is white tile. There's two sides of the wall covered in various ornamental houseplants and having a plain white wall, with the other one having a complex tiling pattern, again, in white and green. Drones in green and white livery flit to and fro carrying various things. Green and white are The Theme here. Indeed, the sense that everything is Themed is extremely strong, much stronger than the sense one gets simply walking around Kosfor City.

It seems that he arrived at a quiet time, because no one else is in the lobby. There's a person at the desk. There are two desks with two people, actually, but based on Design Cues they appear to be there simply for redundancy, or for high customer load.

The human-"cephalopod"s sure do like Visual Patterns. An instinctual affection for certain types of chromatophore signals? He hasn't seen any of them change color, but maybe it's only polite to actually do it during mating or something.

He walks toward the desks, half-raising his hand. He knows what a concierge is, even though it's weird that the remna have a specific word for advisor-employed-by-a-hotel-who-is-also-in-charge-of-hotel-guest-experience.

"Hi!" Friendly, professional - if a little higher-pitched than he intends. "I am from another universe where the only sapient species, mine, is dioecious and has no caste divisions. I died this morning and instantly teleported here for reasons currently beyond my understanding. It's taking me a while to get a job, but a very kind bookshop attendant near the South Gate" town's so small he might as well fuck himself "advised me that I should see a concierge here? The teleport didn't leave me with any cash, but if you take formal trades of advice or debt, I am eager to buy your services." The 'I imagine my bid price is higher than your average customer's' goes without further emphasis. He hopes.

The drone bows. Bowing is very common, apparently.

"Welcome, Sir, to the Twisting Vines Hotel," it says, and then listens patiently for what Vivai has to say.

"The concierge service is free, but it's intended for hotel customers only. This drone has not been given instruction on people who want to buy concierge service a la carte." 

A pause. A long pause of several seconds.

"This drone believes that it would be in its Controller's interests to provide said service regardless. This drone also believes that you would be better served if it fetched its Controller – is this true?"

"If you think your Controller would eagerly formally trade with me, then yes, please. If not, then no, thank you. Acceptance of in-kind trades and promise contracts in return for advice-to-broke-newcomers isn't that common even where I'm from; if you don't think anyone here would eagerly accept an in-kind trade or promise contract from a confused alien in return for unorthodoxically formatted concierge services, then I'll try my luck just asking around to see who's hiring, manually." That might be fun, in an absurd kind of way.

"This drone strongly believes that, if it called its Controller here, that He would simply give you information for free. This drone also believes that its Controller will not trade with you, since He would only want to be paid in Imperial rupnu, or gold.

This drone believes that its Controller will happily give away information, and only charge money if you wished to stay at the hotel or want to receive material goods."

Another long pause.

"This drone believes that calling its Controller to come is the best option. Please wait, Sir."

The drone leaves, and a few minutes later, a man in the similar green and white clothing appears – though he's only wearing pants.

Another long pause while the Controller extends and retracts his tentacles.

He opens his mouth as if to speak, then closes it. Then, his expression hardens. 

"I am Zemked, the owner of this hotel. It is a pleasure to meet an actual alien. My drone gave me a summary of the situation. Let's sit down [highly recommended], I think this will take a while."

Zemked will walk over to one of the soft looking sofas and, if Vivai follows, he will sit.

"Hello, Sir. So you are willing-and-able to trade something unorthodox for something unorthodox in my case then? Your drone" so depersonizing "seemed to doubt the prospect."

Zemked will not press the issue of Vivai not sitting.

"You don't need to 'Sir' me, at least, not if you're a person. It is also perfectly fine for you to sit, but if you prefer to stand, you can stand. 

Well, that's true for most cases, but you are not most cases. You're an alien, so I'm willing to accept other currency. You ought to get some Imperial rupnu – I am willing to sell some to you.

As for information, it is not uncommon for us to simply give information and insignificant material items freely, if the other person would value it much more highly than us, and if such information and items were common. In this case, I would totally just give you information about the town for free. Do you not have the concept of gifts in your world?

I'm fine with formally trading though, if this is preferable to you. I work in hospitality – of course, I will accommodate foreign customs. In fact, if we're going to trade..." he turns his head to shout, "Get me Zex," he says, and a drone comes quickly walks over, carrying writing materials, part of which it will depost on the table, and part of which it will keep holding.

"Formal trading here usually involves a drone taking a transcript of the conversation so that both parties may refer to it later, if you consent to being recorded. Afterward, I'll have Zex make typed copies."

"My apologies - for Sirring you, I mean - where I'm from, Sirring isn't about being a person or not, everyone's people, it's about - who's above you." How weird can the remna possibly be.

"Gifts," he says.

Semantic centers?

Semantic centers: Gifts: one-way transfers of value from agent to agent.

"No, I didn't know that word before the same mysterious force that teleported me here also gave me your language. That happened, too, by the way. And the concept confuses me - but I probably won't understand without taking up way too much of your time. It sort of feels like I'm imposing on you -" shit, he shouldn't have said that out loud, it's a stupid frog-sting* that invites posturing from Zemked that will disadvantage Vivai, or at least would if Zemked were a human, maybe Vivai should just give up hope of understanding these people socially well enough to work with them out of the gate and just go open a computer parts shop, let the edible weeds here kill him if they kill him "but then again" Zex's presence is a little reassuring . . . "You do at all have a protocol for this; I was overreacting, never mind." Vivai is fumbling this. "You already know what type of information you have, that I expect to be of value to me; presumably you're interested in information from me - if so, what kind? I'm also happy to offer small labors or a promise of future currency."

*Established idiom originating from Aineh meaning "an action that was obviously taken based upon a bare, un-reflected-upon basic instinct". Originally meant to connote a frog which cannot discriminate whether an object is prey (an appropriate target for the 'sting'ing motion of its tongue) apart from whether that object moves in a certain pattern that the frog's visual system has hard-coded as 'flying-insect-like'.

"Ah. Well, the main difference between our species is between people and drones – people don't use honorifics with each other, and likewise with drones. 

Hm...interesting. That sounds implausible, but your Standard Imperial is perfect. Exactly up to standard.

What about gifts is confusing? And no, of course not. If you were, I would have cast you out. And in any case, this isn't my...house, this is my business. It would be bad for business if I turned away a customer who didn't rent a room after ten minutes, and who want to ask questions from me."

Zemked has no desire to posture, and even if he did, the lobby is kind of currently deserted. Perhaps more people might arrive in the afternoon, though.

"Hm, I'm not sure what exact information I want from you – I don't know what you know. However, I would be fine with you agreeing to talk to me and answer my questions in exchange for a room with amenities including food or water – I may even pay you. Nowadays people like to talk to strangers less, and prefer to pay for temporary housing with money, but in the past, when locomotives didn't exist and all land travel had to be done by foot or by drone, it was common for people to offer to house and feed travelers for the night in exchange for stories and news. Communications technology was worse back then.

I will happily offer this ancient trade to you, for however long you want to stay here, er, actually, making unbounded offers is bad. Let's cap it at a gross days – with you being permitted to leave at any time – and potentially renegotiate after that.

A bounded offer! Backed by a reasonable-sounding explanation of cultural precedent! It seems like an asymmetric trade but Vivai decides to preliminarily accept this as a plausible recently-sunset alien custom, rather than a trick to trap him into debt or dependence, until and unless due contrary evidence materializes.

"Excellent! How much elaboration will be required per day for me to earn my stay?"

"I'm not sure...You talking to me is valuable in and of itself simply because you're an alien, and of course I would want to find out more about you and your world." And also because Zemked is generous and likes to give gifts, but...apparently they don't do that. So.

"In the past, travelers would talk to the host while they ate dinner, and then again the next day for breakfast. I think an hour of conversation will be fine – in this hour I will have full control to switch topics as I wish, and potentially ask you to elaborate on points, as well as potentially bring up topics which might be relevant. We may continue to talk after that, but then you are free to decline to speak on things or to change topics yourself. How does that sound?

I'm not sure what times you would prefer to have this conversation. In the case you are away, I will write down my questions and have you answer them similarly in writing. Is that fine with you?"

That's a weirdly specific custom. Vivai is suspicious he's being charity-ambushed, but attempting to not be charity-ambushed in this world is apparently so exhausting so he will try rolling with it until he has a footing. At least it sounds like it'll actually inconvenience him, which isn't actually a measure of how much it's benefitting Zemked, but.

"Hour twice a day, you have the freedom to switch topics, writing if I'm not around - all good!

Shall I copy down what Zex has typed? Sorry, I don't have paper or a pen on me." Vivai remembers that their tech level is sneakily high. "Actually, do you have a camera on you?"

If you don't yet have the ability to take a photo of you and your co-contractor making signs of consent in frame with the contract, your best bet is to make a copy in your own handwriting, and write your name and draw your self-portrait on both your own copy and your co-contractor's. Variations exist, but that's pretty much the minimum for being as robust as possible to weasels using primitive technology. 

"You can if you want to, but I'm having it type two copies for both of us. And yes, I have a camera.

Are you concerned about fraud? If you want, we can go to the regional or Imperial notary nearby. I can pay the notary fee. That way you can enforce the contract in the civil court."

Sensing another incoming frustration, Vivai thinks ahead, this time, before he speaks.

I'm not particularly worried about fraud, but if people didn't formalize contracts as a matter of habit, there would be little frauds all the time.

Okay, so far, so good.

I'm certainly not consenting to you paying any further fees on my behalf, but that's a sidenote. I get the feeling y'all's convention for making contracts binding is very different from my homeworld's

And awkwardly admit his vulnerability, in terms of having to take Zemked's word for how this is all to be kept in the clear? To what advantage? No.

Go ahead with Bywayean verification? And bind Zemked how? No.

"That seems wise to me, if it's seriously not trouble for you."

Let Vivai figure out how things work around here by watching, without their knowing his ignorance, this time, if he can get away with it. No more asking and being told and having to trust.

"Ah. Wait. Do you have a seal? Or a stamp? They'll ask you for it. They won't take signatures. That's how they tell that you authorized it: you separately register seals for yourself to certify that you've read, understood, and agree to the contract. This isn't my personal seal, only the hotel's decorative one, and people do vary in designs, but it should look something like this."

Zemked has a drone fetch the stamp. It's a circle with a radius of 1.5cm, with the hotel's name in cursive with curlicues of vines, with leaves at the end.

Oh-for-one!

"No, I don't have anything like that, nor is it customary where I'm from. In that case I think trust is the best I have."

You register a seal? With whom? What guarantee does your co-contractor have that your name and face stays linked to it? It's probably a 'government' thing, and the government is acting in its capacity as sole voucher-for-everybody. Thinking about it is like thinking about floating-island-based architecture, but Vivai thinks he understands.

"You register a seal with the Imperial or provincial government. Usually both, so that it's recognized in both. They take your picture and fingerprints and your signature, and pay a filing fee. Also one rupnu. After that, it's taken to be a proof of identity for you. We're looking into ways which are more secure – there is an Imperial Inquiry about this – but there's nothing good yet. The most promising thing they have is something to do with word ciphers or mathematics, but it hasn't been made practical.

I can pay the filing fee for you, but how you want to design and make or buy the seal is up to you."