To begin this story, I must make mention of one fact, that Old Moneybags was dead. How Dead was he? Why he was more dead than the brains of the parliament. Nevertheless, he was most indisputably dead. It is imperative that this be recognized or else all that follows will be for naught.
Moneybags was dead.
In life, he had been business partners with a shrewd, hard-nosed moneylender by the name of Collection Notice, who was known far and wide for his harsh and unrelenting business practices. He spared no sympathy for clients late with their debts, no compassion for the so-called charity workers, and no patience for the street urchins. His countenance was that of a perpetual winter cold, bitter, and no little bit cruel.
Once Upon a Hearth's Warming Eve, Canterlot was busy with the sounds of carolers and shoppers making a not unpleasant music against the frost and snow that covered the city like a greyed-out blanket. Not all ponies, however, were taking part in the revelry of the season. Old Collection Notice sat hard at work in his place of business, a small set of offices deep within the financial sector of Canterlot, home to the banks and various supporting organizations. His office was a drab establishment of plain old stone and mortar its interior being given to plain walls covered in a multitude of shelves and cabinets where voluminous account-books and receipt logs and the other minutiae of the industry. Where neighboring offices were bedecked in wreaths and other emblems of the season, Collection held no truck to such foolish frivolity. He was a sensible stallion and considered such things to be a waste of precious time and resources. He had in his employ one clerk and general stooge, an unremarkable fellow by the name of Ten Pence. A diligent worker, but with him as the master, that was a foregone conclusion as he would not tolerate any slacking of duty.
It was at this moment when the front door flew open with an enthusiastic bang making Collection Notice's ears perk up in mild startlement. He grumbled several dark words that I shan't repeat when that was followed by the insufferably cheerful voice of his Nephew, Golden Heart cried out "A HAPPY HEARTH'S WARMING, UNCLE!"
Rolling his eyes, Collection Notice snorted peevishly and retorted ""
Laughing merrily as if he had just heard a good joke he replied with a teasing smirk upon his lips and a twinkle in his eye "Oh ho ho, you surely jest dear uncle, for I thought that I heard you say that Hearth's Warming was