After gaining control of the Alagvi River basin, the Bosporus's siege of Mtskheta became much simpler, allowing for two-pronged attacks along the river.
The Tbilisi court of the Georgia Kingdom only realized they had lost their advantageous defensive position a few days after the Alagvi Principality was occupied.
In a panic, Alexander I immediately dispatched a contingent of troops, attempting to regain control of the Alagvi River, but they were severely repelled by the well-prepared Bosporus Army and forced to retreat to the capital in disgrace.
After repelling the Georgia troops, Manuel realized the time was ripe and finally announced to his subordinates and lords that a full-scale assault on Mtskheta would commence in a few days, officially implementing his pre-planned strategy.
A few days later, on Christmas Eve, many Georgia soldiers on the Mtskheta city walls were taking advantage of this special day to rest.
Although the Bosporus's riverine siege had kept them constantly on the move, it seemed that because the Romans also celebrated the day the lord became flesh and descended to save mankind, their frequency of bombardment and attacks had significantly decreased since last night.
"It's finally a bit quieter," a Georgia corporal, currently leading a squad of soldiers guarding the city, glanced at the river outside the city walls before looking away, "Good thing the Romans also have holidays."
A young soldier under his command, with a naive appearance, nodded unthinkingly at his superior's words, then sat on the city wall like his comrades, muttering to himself thoughtfully, "Sir, why do the Romans want to attack us, a poor Caucasus mountain region?"
"Joseph, what you're saying really is..." The middle-aged corporal shrugged helplessly, his old, partially rusted armor clanking loudly with his movement, "It seems our King and the new Roman King next door don't quite get along? Saint Mary, I'm not a Monaspa, how would I know?"
"Is that so...?" The young soldier named Joseph scratched his head, still bewildered.
Although he was a regular soldier receiving royal pay, as a new recruit and at the lowest rank, he hadn't even been assigned an old armor like the corporal wore.
"Forget it, let's not talk about this anymore.
Anyway, it looks like the Romans won't be besieging us until at least the day after tomorrow.
While the superiors aren't here to supervise us, let's relax a bit.
George, you said you had a fiancée last time, right?" The corporal chuckled, steering the conversation away from politics, which they didn't quite understand.
"Yes, if the Romans hadn't come this time, we were planning to get married," the young soldier named George replied honestly, stroking the back of his head.
He immediately asked his corporal, "Speaking of which, sir, if this goes well, you should be promoted to the Philaka Legion, right?"
Upon hearing this, the corporal shook his head with some frustration, "It's difficult.
I'm neither Alan, nor Turk, nor even Circassian.
Even if I could get into the Monaspa, I don't know if I could become a Royal Monaspa."
These words caused his four soldiers to chatter excitedly.
In the Georgia Kingdom, the Monaspa were initially created by the Kingdom, mimicking the Roman Empire's military district system, recruiting local mountain people and cultivating them into something akin to feudal knights.
Among them, the Royal Monaspa, directly subordinate to the Royal family, were elite, full-time troops.
Theoretically, any soldier who met the standards could potentially be promoted to Monaspa in the future.
However, the Georgia Kingdom had now followed other powers down a path of establishing the Royal Monaspa primarily with minority ethnic groups and foreigners.
While this did not mean they did not accept local mountain people, compared to other ethnic groups, local Caucasians found it less easy to be selected.
Just as they were happily discussing their future prospects, a fierce cannon roar suddenly came from a section of the northern city wall.
Less than a minute later, their superiors rushed over, informing them that the Bosporus Army was fiercely attacking the North City Gate, flowing down the Alagvi River, and urging them to join the main force to organize against these Romans who launched an attack on the eve of Christmas.
"No, don't they revere the Lord?" The soldier named George was stunned.
They had completely not expected the Bosporus to pull off such a move.
At the same time, Manuel, riding a snow-white warhorse, stood with his personal guards on the slopes of the Great Caucasus Mountains not far from the battlefield.
Although his armor and uniform couldn't be clearly seen in the night, under the torchlight, his exquisite scale armor, thick cotton uniform, and pure purple cloak were still faintly visible.
Correspondingly, the Caesar's expression at this moment was extremely serious and solemn.
Even if this strong assault were to fail, it would not significantly impact the overall battle, but he still hoped to capture this important town as soon as possible.
Because, based on his speculation from the sharp decrease in Shiite Turkmen and Armenian merchant caravans passing through Pontus, the Black Sheep Dynasty was likely to move against Georgia early next year.
"We can't delay any longer," after pondering for a moment, the Caesar drew the scimitar from his waist and added a military order, "Philaka Legion, advance!"
As the Bosporus's most elite Philaka Legion poured out from the base of the mountain, the Bosporus's navy, under the cover of shore artillery fire, had already crossed the river in light boats, reaching the water gate, and began attempting to breach it, taking advantage of the defenders' inability to focus on the river.
On land, the conscripted soldiers, driven forward, set up ladders and shakily gained a foothold on the city wall, and seeing this, the Bosporus peasant soldiers also surged onto the North City, attempting to tear open the defenders' line in one fell swoop.
Although the Georgia side had somewhat anticipated this possibility, due to the suddenness of this attack, the defenders of the North City Wall, adjacent to the Alagvi River, quickly collapsed after the Bosporus companies of peasant soldiers charged up.
Their collapse also affected the other arriving reinforcements, and even though the defenders had a natural advantage, they fell into a temporary stalemate.
Just as the commanding general, who was personally directing from the front lines, tried to rally his troops and drive the enemy off the North City, a messenger from the West City Gate disrupted his efforts.
"It's bad, General, the west, the Romans are attacking from the west!" The young soldier cried as he spoke.
"How many people!?" The general felt like he was going crazy.
"It seems they are proper soldiers, less than 700?"
"A bunch of good-for-nothings, 700 men can surround you!?"
"No, General, these 700 men are all sturdy fellows wearing strong light armor, how can we, with our incomplete armor, fight them...?" The young soldier finally broke down and cried, and then a cannon roar shook the unfortunate messenger off the city wall, shattering him.
Just as the general fell into an extreme state of anxiety, a lead bullet, flying from who knew where, pierced his skull.
With the general's sudden death, the entire Georgia defending army was thrown into disarray, completely losing its ability to resist the enemy.
Finally, in the early hours of the next day, on Christmas Day, the Bosporus and the allied noble forces stormed into Mtskheta from four directions: by water, by land, and through the West City and North City, thus opening the gateway to Tbilisi.