While Merame was held fast by Yifa's strong arms...she could at least move her head.  It was down, not looking at anyone in the tent, eyes squeezed shut to prevent herself from seeing her own nudity.  "Merame...it's Merame Teresu."  Samea, who had been in one corner of the tent, spoke up.  "Teresu...the name belongs to one of the powerful families of the city-state of Lookshy.  If her name is correct, she will be no friend of the Realm."  Which it was, but it wasn't like she had any way to prove to any of them the truth of it.  Not here, not away from the city.  "I see...the tribe will have no choice but to accept her, since if they have a quarrel with her, then they must take it up with you..."  And no one in their right mind would argue or challenge Yifa.  No one except Yurgen himself.<br/><br/>"Very well.  Hold her."  This part Yifa would also remember.  The potential candidate had to be...checked, made sure she was fit for service.  Merame gasped and struggled to hold down her blush as the Icewalker chieftain did<em>things</em>to her that no man had done before.  Handled her breasts.  Caressed her rear, her stomach.  Slid his hand between her legs.  "Good.  She's in excellent condition.  If she's got the skills you tell me she claims, she'll make a Shieldmaiden for the stories."  Then came the Vow, which was the easiest part of it.  Mainly Yurgen and Merame doing a back-and-forth repetition of the usual: swearing until death to protect and serve the Oathholder, so on and so on.<br/><br/>"That's everything," he said when finished.  "Now for the Breaking.  Then the Clothing."