Sometime earlier when the group had been gathered at the tavern or the blackbough shrine:
Grumbling about the impending trial, Amity says: "If we - if you guys want to bring her to justice or whatever, shouldn't you bring her to like... Somewhere with real guards and a magistrate?" She looks at Azalea, "Lynden is nice and all, but he's just some priest in a little nowhere town. He gets to decide her fate and that's it?"
Azalea looks up from her simple meal and gives Amity a smile. “I understand your confusion. After all, you are likely unfamiliar with how the Sovereign Host polices itself.” She leans back in her chair, looking up at the worn wooden rafters of the chapel. “Regardless of what you may think of Blackbough, Lyndon would have had to work very hard to attain the position he has now. Assigned priests and clerics of the Host must study and work for quite a long while, sometimes years, to earn their assignments. Thusly, Lyndon has earned the Right of Arbitration regarding internal matters within the Host and whatever judgement he deems appropriate will most likely be honored.” Lowering her gaze back to her meal, she spears a small flake of fish with her crude fork before popping it into her mouth. Chewing, she continues. “The complications arise when - or if - punishment is deemed necessary.” She turns to Amity with another smile. “As you likely understand, Blackbough is ill-equipped to handle meting out whatever judgement Lyndon may deem appropriate.”
"It could prolly handle... all or nothing. I dunno if either of those are likely." She eyes Azalea, emboldened: "What'd you do? Max said you got kicked out.... right?"
Azalea blinks at the abruptness of the question before, a bit uncharacteristically, snorting and barking a single laugh. "Ah. That is... a bit complicated, and not a story I'd like to get into tonight. I will be turning in shortly, and I suggest you do the same. I'm afraid we'll all need a clear head tomorrow."