She leans back, crossing her arms. "Nay, if the raiders do come, we're on our own out here until word gets to the local lord's men. And by then, who knows how many peasants they'll have slaughtered, or maidens they'll have ravaged?"

I shudder theatrically at the thought, though inwardly I'm more intrigued than afraid. The prospect of battle and invasion is certainly more exciting than endless days of drudgery in this miserable hovel!

"So you see, the menfolk had best prepare to stand their ground and protect our homes," Maeve declares solemnly. "Because we both know the first place those heathen bastards will come looking for soft, helpless prey..."

Her gaze falls meaningfully to her own swollen belly, and I can't help feeling a twinge of genuine fear for her and Aislin's sake. For all my bravado, I'm still just a child in this world - a mere object for the cruelty of men, be they Christian, pagan, or any other.

"Erik told me before that the Norse people aren't raiding Ireland anymore," I pipe up innocently. "He said it must be the Danes or the Swedes doing the raiding now."

Aislin pauses, grimacing through another contraction. "Aye, that's what I heard too, poppet. The Viking longships have been staying away these past few years."

I tilt my head curiously. "But why would the Danes and Swedes want to come raiding here? Don't they have their own lands?"

"Greed and hunger for plunder, most like," Aislin pants. "Those heathen folk crave richer spoils than their frozen northlands can provide."

Hmm, how delightfully medieval - blaming the warlike tendencies of entire cultures on some vague, mystical "greed". As if the Irish peasantry wouldn't gladly pillage and slaughter their way across the continent too, if given half a chance at escaping this wretched squalor.

Maeve snorts derisively from the table. "Aye, those Viking savages have been growing fat and lazy off the spoils of their past raids. Now they send the Danes and Swedes to do their dirty work for them!"

"You watch your tongue about the Norsemen, girl!" Aislin snaps. "They may be pagans, but at least they possess a warrior's honor - more than I can say for the wretched English filth constantly nipping at our borders!"

I can't help but smirk inwardly. Even in the depths of her birthing agonies, good pious Aislin still finds room in her heart for a spot of casual xenophobia.

Maeve scowls, clearly taken aback by Aislin's vehemence. For a few moments, the only sounds are my mother's ragged breathing and the dull thunk of Maeve's knife on the tabletop.

"Well, whoever the raiders be, they'd do well to steer clear of this village," Maeve mutters at last. "Lest they want their arses handed to them by the mighty Bans!"

She cackles loudly at her own jest, only to be cut short by a piercing cry from Aislin. My mother doubles over, face contorted in a rictus of agony.

"Ohh, merciful Christ..." she moans. "The pains, they come harder and faster now! Lile, fetch me a rag to bite upon, quickly!"

I scurry to obey, grabbing a relatively clean strip of linen from the washbasin. As I press it into Aislin's trembling hand, she grips my wrist with surprising strength.

"Listen to me well, child," she gasps between clenched teeth. "This birthing may be a fierce trial, one that could claim my life as easily as grant new life. If...if the Blessed Virgin calls me to her side, you must swear to me - swear you'll behave and be a good wife to Erik, no matter what! You must live a better life than me!"

Her wild, pleading eyes bore into mine, and I find myself momentarily at a loss for words. This woman's desperation to secure my future is almost...touching, in its own twisted way.

"I...I swear it, Mama," I murmur, feigning a childlike solemnity. "If anything happens, I'll go with Erik, just like you want."

Aislin nods jerkily, some of the tension leaving her face. "Good girl. You're a good, obedient girl..."

She trails off with a low moan, leaning back against the wall.

I take a moment to gather my thoughts, careful not to let any hint of my true intellect and memories show on my childlike features. Let us summarize what we know so far - magic, or rather psychokinetic abilities, are very much real here. Telekinesis and all its sub-disciplines seem to exist, granting those with the right training frightening powers over matter and energy.

What's more, figures and entities from myth, legend, and fiction appear to walk this earth alongside regular humans. Vampires, werewolves, and who knows what other supernatural horrors lurk in the shadows? The very fact that they exist at all is mind-boggling.

And we are not even fully human ourselves, it seems. The people of this primitive era carry alien genetic traits that manifest in bizarre ways like my vivid yellow eyes and the pink-haired girls I've encountered. Can you even call us human anymore? A more appropriate terminology would be neo-humans.

As for the time and place, I am trapped in Ireland during the year 301 AD, over a millennium removed from my own era. The local feudal lord is a man named Eamonn, and the oppressive system of manorialism enslaves peasants like my host family, the Bans, as mere property. Any thoughts of human rights or dignity are centuries away.

Most disturbing of all are the revelations about the Tuatha De Danann - an ancient order that seems to police the realms of men and magic, battling supernatural threats with their own cadres of gifted warriors and witch hunters. The very fact that such an organization is required speaks volumes about the dangers lurking in this world, and if Dumitra is any indication of how bad it is, then... I don't want to think about it yet.

If war does erupt between the Irish and the invading English forces, as the rumors suggest, the resulting carnage will be unimaginable. Conventional medieval warfare was already horrific enough with simple blades and siege engines. But add psychokinetic powers into the mix, to say nothing of vampires, demons, and other preternatural beasts joining the fray?

The destruction could be catastrophic on a scale difficult for me to fully envision. My mind races as I contemplate the strategic possibilities. With telekinesis and other psychokinetic disciplines, even an individual gifted warrior could potentially devastate entire armies with localized shockwaves, concussive blasts, or outright molecular disruption.

And those are just the more rudimentary applications I can conceive of based on my current knowledge. Who knows what other nightmarish powers lurk within the higher disciplines of psychokinesis? Abilities to manipulate gravity, distort space-time, or unleash unrestrained thermal and electromagnetic energies? The possibilities are both wondrous and terrifying.

One thing is certain - I must escape this primitive land and find safe passage to the more advanced Norse territories with Erik's aid. Once there, I can begin positioning myself to rapidly advance weapons technology, harnessing the scientific principles of my era to develop arms capable of negating any perceived supernatural advantage.

No matter what devilish "magic" the psychokinetic warriors and inhuman beasts of this world may wield, nothing can stop a high-velocity projectile fired from kilometers away, striking with lethal precision before the target is even aware of the threat. Gunpowder and rifled ballistics will prove the ultimate equalizer against such mystical forces.

From a position of political and technological superiority in Erik's Norway, I can take the first strides towards dragging this benighted world into an age of industry, science, and human progress. Let the primitive fools of this era cling to their quaint myths and superstitions. I shall bend the laws of physics themselves to my iron will and forge a brighter future for humanity, one bullet at a time.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Of course, I won't stop at just developing firearms and gunpowder weaponry. I also need to devise the ideal economic system to rapidly modernize this primitive society. Capitalism, with its obsession for profit over human welfare, is an abusive and exploitative model I must avoid at all costs. Economies can function perfectly well without the wasteful pursuit of profits as the driving force.

But what form of government and economic structure should I implement once I secure power in the Norse lands of Norway? I must carefully consider several factors. Firstly, the Norse pagans will likely revere me as the embodiment of their goddess Gullveig, granting me immense spiritual authority. However, Erik, that cunning Viking warrior, will undoubtedly seek to maintain his own power and status, especially if his wretched father Ragnar still clings to life.

I cannot allow Erik's ambitions to impede my grand vision, yet I must also avoid sowing seeds of discord that could jeopardize my ascension. A delicate balance must be struck - one where I can swiftly modernize Norway into an industrial powerhouse, while still providing the populace with basic rights and amenities like housing and food. Mass starvation would only breed unrest and hinder progress.

At the same time, I may need to pragmatically allow certain unpalatable practices like slavery to persist temporarily, as a means of rapidly developing infrastructure and channeling labor where needed. As abhorrent as the notion seems, I cannot afford to let misguided moral principles derail the greater goals of uplifting this entire civilization from the clutches of superstition and ignorance.

So what system best meets these complex requirements? I ponder several possibilities:

1) A constitutional monarchy, with me as the enlightened sovereign guided by principles of reason and progress. The Norse could maintain their cultural identity while I steadily implement reforms.

2) An oligarchic technocracy, where I share power with Erik and a council of my most brilliant minds. Strict meritocracy would ensure only the most capable steer society.

3) A form of state socialism, with the government controlling all major resources and industries. This could rapidly mobilize efforts while still providing for the populace.

4) An Athenian-style direct democracy, where all free citizens can vote on issues. Of course, I would carefully sculpt the electorate and control the flow of information.

5) A theocratic hierocracy, where I reign as the living embodiment of the Norse pantheon's power and wisdom. Religious indoctrination could prove a potent tool of control.

6) A militaristic martial republic, with a highly-trained professional army serving as the ruling class. Their discipline could enforce order during industrialization.

7) A hereditary feudal system, but restructured along more meritocratic lines rewarding competence over birthright. I could be the supreme liege.

8) A corporatist economic system, dividing all industries and resources into specialized syndicates I could dominate from the shadows.

9) A pure totalitarian dictatorship with me as the absolute, unquestioned ruler, unfettered by any checks on my authority to reshape society as I see fit.

After weighing the pros and cons, I find myself leaning towards option 5 - a theocratic hierocracy. By positioning myself as the living incarnation of the Norse gods' power, I could wield immense spiritual influence over the population. Their pagan beliefs and my inevitable technological marvels would be all the propaganda required to cement my unquestioned rule.

Yes, a religious stratocracy seems the most viable path, at least initially. Once my industrial base solidifies and the populace accepts the new social order, I could gradually transition to a more secular system of government. But for now, harnessing the potent zeal of religious fervor to rapidly modernize appears the wisest course. I shall be the messiah heralding a new age of reason and progress through the judicious application of my scientific supremacy!

"Lile! Stop daydreaming again, you silly girl!" Maeve's sharp voice cuts through my contemplative haze. I blink rapidly, my gaze refocusing on her irritated expression as she glares at me from across the table.

Aislin removes the rag from her mouth with a weary sigh. "Now, now, Maeve. The child's just got a clever mind, is all. She's been doing that far-off look since she were a babe."

I can't help but smirk inwardly at Aislin's unintentional accuracy. This simple peasant woman has no idea just how "far off" my mind truly wanders at times.

Maeve scoffs loudly. "Well, being too clever is more a curse than a blessing for a lass in this world!"

"You're wrong about that," Aislin retorts, shaking her head. She winces suddenly, hand going to her swollen belly. "Once we're away to Erik's lands in Norway, Lile's quick wits will serve her well. More than aught else, I'd wager."

Hmm, so the Viking has already been spinning fanciful tales of whisking us away to his frozen northlands, has he? I'll have to probe him further on these supposed "plans" of his.

Maeve finishes dicing the last of the vegetables, sweeping them into the bubbling black cauldron over the hearth with a clatter. "Norway?" she echoes, brow furrowing. "You didn't tell me we'd all be fleeing to the land of those pillaging heathens!"

"Not all of us," Aislin corrects, her voice strained. "Just Lile and myself. That's the offer Erik made."

Maeve whirls to face her, eyes wide. "And how am I meant to join you there? You know I'd give anything for a life beyond this squalid muck!"

Aislin shrugs one shoulder, mouth twisting wryly. "Then I suppose you'll have to beg Erik nicely. And maybe he'll take pity."

The words are barely out before Maeve lets out a derisive snort. "As if I'd debase myself begging favors from that arrogant prick!"

She stalks over to the cellar door, yanking it open to reveal the rough-hewn steps leading below. A moment later, she reemerges holding a whole salted chicken carcass, which she tosses unceremoniously into the pot. The resulting splash of broth seems to snap her out of her foul mood, and she grins savagely.

"No, if it's an escape from Ireland that bastard wants, I'll give it to him! I'll beg and grovel and do whatever else he asks without shame. Anything to leave this festering shithole behind for good!"

Aislin chuckles dryly at Maeve's vehement declaration. "Is that so? Well, we'll just have to see how sincere those honeyed words are when the time comes, won't we?"

Maeve shoots her a withering look as she stirs the thickening stew. "Don't you mock me, old woman! I'm dead serious about this."

"Oh, I've no doubt you are, sweet girl," Aislin replies, amusement dancing in her eyes. "But you'd do well to mind that sharp tongue of yours around Erik. He's not the sort to suffer disrespect lightly, even from a pretty face."

Maeve opens her mouth, no doubt to unleash another biting retort. But I quickly interject, putting on my most innocent childlike expression.

"Mama, if Maeve comes with us to Norway, does that mean she'll be my new sister?" I ask with feigned naivete.

The question seems to catch both women off guard. Maeve blinks owlishly for a moment before bursting into raucous laughter.

"You hear that, Aislin?" she guffaws, slapping her thigh. "The little lamb wants me for her sister-wife! As if I'd ever let that rutting boar of a husband lay so much as a finger on me."

Aislin's cheeks color slightly, but she manages a strained smile. "Now, now, none of that unpleasant talk. We're to be proper ladies once we're abroad, mind."

"Proper?" Maeve snorts again, louder this time. "When were you or I ever proper, crone? We're just a pair of worn-out whores, you and I. Only difference is, you got used up bearing get for that drunken pig, while I got passed around the village for any prick with a copper to rub together!"

The words hang heavy in the air, their brutal honesty robbing even me of my usual glibness. For once, I find myself at an uncharacteristic loss for a witty rejoinder.

Aislin seems to recover first, her expression hardening. "That's quite enough out of you, girl! I'll not have you speaking such filth in front of my daughter."

But Maeve is undeterred, tossing her head defiantly. "What's the matter, Aislin? Can't stand to hear the truth for once in your pious life? We're both just warm cunts to be used and discarded by men. You know it as well as I!"

"I said enough!" Aislin's voice is a harsh rasp now, her face flushed with anger and humiliation. "You'll mind your tongue and show some respect, or I'll have Erik send you straight back to that wretched tavern you came from!"

The threat seems to finally give Maeve pause. She falls silent, shoulders slumping as she returns her attention to the stew. Aislin, meanwhile, leans back against the wall once more with a weary sigh.

I turn to the pregnant Maeve and say in my most childlike voice, "If you like the Norse gods like Erik does, you can come with us to Norway too!"

Maeve scoffs loudly, "I'd kiss a bloody tree's arse if it meant getting away from this shithole and not being some slave broodmare anymore!"

Aislin suddenly hisses in pain, one hand clutching her massively swollen belly. "Ohh...the babe, it's coming! Quick Maeve, fetch the midwife - my waters just broke!"

I walk over and stare at the small puddle forming beneath Aislin's skirts. Hmm, it seems the little brat is eager to make its grand debut today after all. I look up at my mother innocently. "Can I help you with anything, Mama?"

Aislin shakes her head, beads of sweat already forming on her brow. "Nay, poppet. Best you go outside and play for now. This birthing won't be a pretty sight, I fear."

She turns to Maeve, who is hovering uncertainly. "Maeve, can you take Lile to Cathal's for a spell? Let her play with his wee lass again while I labor."

Maeve tsks impatiently. "Which should I do first - fetch the crone midwife or take the child there?"

"The midwife, you daft thing!" Aislin snaps, grimacing through another contraction. "Then see Lile settled before returning to me."

Maeve sighs heavily but nods, already heading for the door. With one last glance at my pained mother, the young woman slips outside to begin her errands.

I watch her go, idly wondering if Maeve truly understands the agonies that await her own inevitable childbed. Somehow, I doubt the realities of birth have fully penetrated that naïve brain of hers.[...]