As you instructed, I have taken a post as Assistant Royal Hairdresser to King Tancred Thyssen and have been active in that position for two months.
I dash this note off to you now because I must inform you of a most startling development. After weeks of analysis, consultations with specialists and trial runs on model doppelgangers, the Chief Royal Hairdresser, Master Hector, has decided to give Marziaola, the king's current favorite, a... bob! Of course, Marzaiola, being a mere king's mistress, cannot indulge in such extravagances as an asymmetric bob or an daringly shaved nape, therefore her bob is rather of the classically elegant sort, with a fringe that wonderfully complements the line of her eyes and covers her altogether unfortunate forehead.
Just as we speculated, the bob shall soon make a triumphant reentry as the absolute rage of the royal salon, and thanks to me, you, my dear friend, are now the first hairdresser of the South to know about it! I thus declare my mission accomplished and a stunning success! I'll gather up my trappings and prepare to return. I hope you are ready for a long and eventful tête-à-tête once I arrive, and I hope that will be soon, for this seaside climate really does not suit me one bit, and this swill they call wine in Kovir is positively disgusting.