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He was a faithful man at heart. And whilst he used to mean that in the sort of metaphorical, “I’m a hardworking sort of guy”, he supposed that wasn’t as applicable anymore. He was hard working though. He had researched all his early life, learnt all books could possibly teach him and then what his parents could offer and then professors. He had scoured all known and recorded medicines to treat any illness. He would rarely get a diagnosis wrong either, though whether or not he could help them largely depended.
After he had learnt all he could he put knowledge into action and for all of his adult life he went to nobles' homes and treated the sick, he put them minds and bodies at ease, through painless death or tested remedies, he had always tried his best. He had done whatever he could.
And then his son was hit with lightning.
Well, he didn’t really figure it out at that point and he would later find out that he wasn’t even the first to know, he felt like kind of a fool after that realization. Afterall where was he after Farma got hit by literal lightning? Not close enough to his son to realize he had become the vessel of a god apparently.
He only found out after they visited their royal majesty, she had been diagnosed with white death, well known to be incurable and his son, whom he had very much mistaken for a idiot fool with a too big mouth, had offered to treat her. It was a wild, wholly unrealistic claim but he said it with enough earnest genuine passion that the empress had taken a chance on him.
So naturally he had to go tell Farma off. His fool of a son proceeded to block him out with a barricade of ice only to tear it down just as easily minutes later, something that he shouldn’t have been able to come close to doing. Then again the light he was giving off when he first walked in should’ve been the first blazing red flag.
Even with hindsight he couldn’t quite believe the miracle that had become of his son. The boy cured so much illness that he felt, privately, a little incompetent at times. That he had birthed this young boy and yet only under thorough investigation of detailed notes could he sometimes make out what the boy was going on about.
He wasn’t sure Panactheos’ power being contained within his son made the whole situation better or worse. Not to mention the fact that he was pretty damn sure his son had confronted some church members. Despite the fact that he certainly hadn’t been told personally. His son lived a too busy life now. He wondered if that was what he seemed like to his family. Regardless he couldn’t help but wonder what Farma did to persuade the church to get off his back, surely they called him sacrilegious. He almost had and he wasn't a deeply devoted member of the holy church. Did Farma, or Panactheos? It was getting hard to tell, keep them out with an ice structure like him? Surely that wouldn’t have worked though? Perhaps if he willed it so? Panactheos' power could surely surpass that of a holy soldier.
Those were most of the events that led up to the current pandemic. The pandemic his son identified after only a hint of information wafting his direction. And yes he had done that too but he had been out and seen the world more than his son had. Oh, well perhaps not if Panactheos had come to rest within him. He couldn't help shaking his head whenever the thought came back. It was unrealistic but so hard to deny and was doing his head in.
With the pandemic fearing to spread, Farma came to him only for help executing his will in places above his register, the only reason being so because he had not died and his dear boy was still a child. However child or not his son had refused to sit still, springing into action with a frantic sort of energy.
He supposed it may have been comforting to some that his son, an incredible healer, was willing to help but to him it spoke of wild uncontrollable danger.
Was this what Panactheos came down to save them from? Was this such a great trial? If so he couldn’t help but be nervous under the weight of such potential danger.
In the end though they pulled through. Not without reuniting his past, his painful regrettable past that he had wished to leave behind. Did the gods wish to smite him some to balance the gift of which his son possessed? If so he would even still call it an uneven sacrifice, he could take his pride and self through a little pain but he would not forsake the world a chance to reunite with one of it’s great deities.
The battle was not fought by him. But by his son. He knew why it must be that way, that the evil spirit could only truly be banished by an act of god but even still having his son fight his battle for him felt cowardly at least and pathetic at best. Perhaps it took more time than a year for the fact that a god, his god, showed divine intervention through his son to sink in. At this rate though he wasn't sure it ever would. A fact that he was going to accept and likely keep to himself, and perhaps his wife in their chambers of privacy. For now though he planned to be proud and support his son because if the ruler of a country and a bishop, with convenient timing of promotion and visiting of a certain pharmaceutical store, could protect and guide his son he would as well.
He surely had superior resources to them when it came to Panactheos’ true interests anyway. No matter that his beloved boy could magic items from thin air, he would provide them the human way whenever he was shown to be needed, or even just wanted. He would protect his boy, Farma, his God, Panactheos, or, as he acted sometimes, this entirely new person. He vowed that he would protect his family. So long as possible.