Player B thought it over and did not team up with those other players.
No one knew players' nature better than he did: backstabbing was the norm.
He only teamed up with a few warriors who usually admired him.
He had played through eighteen historical scenarios and started eighteen games.
He understood best how little people survived in the army.
Forming cliques, deceiving those above and below, flattering superiors... these derogatory terms that scholars disdained were the true way to survive.
Without a few companions, others could bully you however they pleased. You would eat the worst food, use the worst weapons, be sent to the front first in battle, and if you were injured, no one would drag you back...
After several such things piled up, even a warrior would be brought to his knees.
He gathered eight men, then gave a sharply honed dagger to the chieftain's trusted guard. In the end, he got his wish and became a Ten-Man Commander.
Besides his own eight men, two more fell under his command.
As for why he could not become a Hundred-Man Commander, the reason was simple: the tribe had only sent out a hundred and sixty able-bodied men...
The chieftain personally led seventy men. Of the other ninety, ten went to each of his five sons, and the remainder became four ten-man units.
Player B held one of those posts, proving that his experience had indeed paid off.
The other players were all ordinary soldiers.
They probably did not grind enough and lacked strength.
"Warriors, the Great Khan has summoned us. It is time for the wolf pack to hunt again! Do you want a few more slaves at home, a few more women, a few more big iron pots?" The chieftain's way of rousing morale was simple