This old man is clearly insane...
Uhh thanks I guess?" Responded Skib, putting up his hands and started clapping.
The old butler beggar, happy with Skib's reaction clapped back.
Clap clap
Two uniformed maids came out of somewhere for no reason at all and grabbed his both arms in a tight hold.
Prepare young master for his outing! Make him look exeptionaaal~ for Lady Valeria!" Old butler's voice was enthusiastic, the word exeptional was elongated in a long breath.
Outing? Hold on. Who is this Lady Valeria?and what has this got to do with me?" Skib spat out words in a rush when he was being pulled somewhere by the maids to a side room
Plack!
They seated him forcefully
The maids ignored his protests, ushering him toward a side room lined with elaborate clothing racks. Every outfit screamed wealth and ostentation, from embroidered tunics to cloaks edged with gold. One of the maids, a young woman with dark hair tied in a severe bun, began measuring him with a tape while the other rifled through the wardrobe.
*"Is this some kind of prank? Am I being punked?"* Skib muttered as he tried to dodge the maid's measuring tape.
Rizz leaned against the doorway, swirling his bottle of ale with a knowing grin. *"Ah, young master, you always were one for jokes. But there's no time for your games now. The wedding is in three days, and you must impress your bride-to-be."*
*"Wedding?!"* Skib yelped, spinning around to face him. *"Listen, old man, I don't know what kind of medieval soap opera I've stumbled into, but I'm not marrying anyone!"*
The room fell silent. The maids froze mid-motion, exchanging nervous glances. Rizz's grin faltered, his bloodshot eyes narrowing.
*"Not… marrying?*" Rizz's voice was low, almost a growl.
The tension in the air was palpable, and for a moment, Skib considered running. But where would he go? He didn't even know what *world* he was in.
*"Look, I don't even know who this Valeria chick is,"* Skib said, raising his hands in surrender. *"Maybe you've got the wrong guy. Maybe I just *look* like your 'young master.'"*
Rizz stared at him for a long moment before bursting into laughter. The sound was loud and unsettling, echoing off the walls.
*"Oh, young master,"* Rizz wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. *"You truly are a riot! Always testing my patience with your little jests."*
He straightened, his demeanor shifting abruptly to one of authority. *"Enough delays. You *will* prepare for the outing. Lady Valeria has been waiting far too long, and your family's honor depends on it."*
Before Skib could protest further, Rizz clapped his hands again. The maids sprang into action, pulling him toward a screen where they began shoving a ridiculous outfit at him—a velvet jacket, a ruffled shirt, and pants so tight he felt like a sausage stuffed into a casing.
*"Oh, hell no,"* Skib muttered as he struggled to resist.
But resistance was futile. Minutes later, he stood in front of a large gilded mirror, barely recognizing himself. The outfit made him look like he belonged in a period drama, and his slightly scruffy face had been cleaned up to perfection by the relentless maids.
*"You look magnificent, young master!"* Rizz declared, clapping his hands. *"Now, let's go. The carriage awaits."*
*"Carriage?"* Skib echoed. *"Can someone explain what the hell is going on? Where am I, and why are we acting like I'm the star of some Renaissance fair?"*
Rizz ignored him, grabbing him by the shoulder and steering him out of the dressing room. The halls they walked through were grand and opulent, lined with paintings of stern-looking men and women who bore a faint resemblance to him.
The more he saw, the more Skib's unease grew. He tried to piece together the fragments of his situation. The truck accident, the strange room, the old man calling him 'young master,' and now this. It didn't add up.
Finally, they reached the front doors, where a sleek black carriage waited. Two massive horses with glossy coats stood ready, their harnesses gleaming in the sunlight. The driver tipped his hat as they approached.
*"What, no Uber?"* Skib muttered under his breath.
Rizz gestured grandly to the carriage. *"After you, young master."*
Skib hesitated. He didn't trust this situation one bit, but he also didn't see an alternative. With a resigned sigh, he climbed into the carriage.
As it began to move, he stared out the window, taking in the bustling streets. People in medieval attire filled the cobblestone roads, bartering at stalls and chatting in an unfamiliar dialect.
*"This... definitely isn't Earth,"* Skib muttered, his stomach sinking.
Rizz, seated across from him, watched him with a smug expression. *"You'll see, young master. By the end of the day, everything will become clear."*
But the glint in Rizz's red-tinged eyes suggested otherwise.
And as the carriage rolled on, Skib couldn't shake the feeling that his 'new life' was about to get a lot more complicated.
---
This continuation builds on the humor and confusion while dropping hints about the world and Rizz's potentially sinister nature. It sets up further conflict (the mysterious wedding, Skib's identity, and the strange environment) while keeping things tense and engaging.